


The Jill Sandwich

by TheLadyFrost



Series: Absolution Chambers [5]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Karaoke, Love Triangles, Multiple Pairings, Revenge Sex, Shameless Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: One girl. Two boys. A love affair that spans a life time. Sometimes it's the things we don't see...that keep us staring into the dark.





	1. Chapter 1

PART ONE: SOME BEACH, SOMEWHERE  
....

"I believe very strongly that when it comes to desire, when it comes to attraction, that things are never black and white, things are very much shades of grey." -Brian Molko  
.....

Raccoon City, 1998  
.....

She was running late that morning. She dropped her keys in the toilet while brushing her teeth and had to fish them out. She burned her neck curling her hair. She poked herself in the eye with her mascara. She didn't move out of the way of the slamming fridge door while making a something to eat and almost became a Jill sandwich while making a sandwich. The irony of that would not have been lost on her.

She got caught up watching the early morning news and forgot to get in the shower on time. Her alarm clock lost power over night in the rain storm. Her little motorbike kept being a pain in the ass about firing up. And traffic was backed up because of the 100 Days of Umbrella festival rejoicing in the influx of business brought about by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals building the production plant at the edge of town.

She raced up the stairs of the RPD station almost late for work. Captain Wesker, damn his eyes, didn't miss a trick. She'd been late her first day. He'd made her very aware of the fact that it would not be tolerated. He was snooty, yes, and very strict. But he had a way of making you feel about three inches tall as well.

She raced through the lobby of the RPD, holding her helmet under her arm. She pocketed her keys as she ran and missed. They tumbled out of her hand, hit the floor, spun in a circle and were kicked by a walking man into the far corner.

He kept on walking.

"Thanks a lot dude!" She shouted snidely at the guys fat ass as she raced over to get them. She muttered under her breath, "Asshat."

Jill Valentine was notoriously late for everything. She had been most of her life. It was perpetuated by a father that didn't know how to even be remotely on time. If he showed up at all of course. Henri-Louis Valentin was seldom, if ever, around when you needed him. She hadn't heard from him in years. Being in lock up all the time tended to impact your relationships and making it home for Christmas. Landing state side a French immigrant, Henri tried to Americanize his name and added the E to the end. And so, a brief fling later with her mother Noriko – a Japanese dancer in New York long enough to birth a baby and run away, Jillian-Aime Valentine was born.

Henri was a terrible father. He did the best he could, in some ways. He was lazy and self centered and above the law. So he often times stole or lied or cheated those around him. More than once, she woke up to find him having gotten his ass kicked by someone he'd grifted and gotten caught while doing it. He did seem to love her. He spoiled her with love when he could and educated her with books and bedside speeches. He was smart and stupid and flawed. He was in and out of jail and Jill ended up in foster homes most of her youth. He'd get her out and run her around and they'd sleep in trucks and trailers and have great adventures. He'd go back in lock up and she'd go back to group living and school.

She was smart as a whip and quick on her feet. He taught her how to bleed a bastard with her little knife and crack open safes like a professional. She loved him. And it was a real and painful love. Because he was a terrible, awful, failure of a father. She'd have loved, just once, to wake up in a surburban bedroom and been normal.

Her keys were picked up by a person sitting in "chairs." Chairs was where they kept prisoners waiting to be processed and where new recruits waited for an interview. She'd spent two torturous hours in chairs her first day here bored off her ass until Chris Redfield had showed up. She'd spent the next two laughing.

The person in chairs was young and handsome. He offered her keys to her with a charming, disarming, and slightly dorky smile. He was thin, tall, and had a long ponytail tied back from a cute face that was all sharp angles and high cheekbones. The eyes were husky blue and rather haunting.

She grabbed her keys from his hand. "Thanks dude. Good luck on your interview, yeah? Just remember, don't panic. Chief Irons likes confidence. Pretend you're James Bond and you'll be golden like a shower."

"Awesome. Thanks."

God he was young. She was barely in her twenties, this was true. But this kid was fresh out of highschool young. He still had baby written all over him. He reminded her of Rebecca Chambers on Bravo Team. She offered him another little something for his chivalry: she tossed him her S.T.A.R.S. zippo lighter.

He caught it, lifting a brow.

"For when all the other lights go out my friend. Trust me…it'll happen. You can never have too much light dude. True story." And she hurried up the stairs to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

A week later would find her trapped in the first real fight of her life. The Spencer Estate was waiting for them to walk in, run, hide and almost die fighting to get out. In the lobby of the RPD that day, she'd met the other side of that long night. Leon S. Kennedy interviewing for the only night he'd ever serve on the RPD police force. A baby maybe but a hero not long after.

And the light she'd given him saved his life more than once over that long night.  
......

Terragrigia, 2003  
......

The early morning light filtered in through her window high above the sprawling aquapolis. Eyes as blue as the water beneath filtered through the noise and the commotion to settle on the sheer beauty of the landscape. Jill Valentine was a water baby. She did best surrounded by water.

She'd come from Russia not long before. The Umbrella facility there was now garbage, neutralized and disbanded. The B.S.A.A. was in full swing. Backed by the power of the government and infused with talent of herself, Chris, Barry Burton and a selection of others, their fledgling terror resistance organization was gathering speed and gaining ground at destroying the things that bred and bled destruction through biowarfare. But Wesker still plagued the night like the big bad wolf, eventually he'd show up to eat Granny.

She and Chris had celebrated the birth of the BSAA with a bottle of Dom Perignon and a sweaty night over looking the Mediterranean. He'd had to let out early for a mission so she'd stayed behind to play ambassador.

She was in Terragrigia making contacts with the FBC and the President. If all the fingers in the pie started playing together, they might be able to actually fight the threats out there with some accuracy. Chris had been needed at HQ so she was here making friends in the beautiful, breezy, and completely green powered Terragrigia.

He was freezing his nuts off. She was getting ready to go lay out in her bikini. Someone was getting the shit end of the stick. Whistling happily, Jill looped a towel around her hips and hurried out of her room. She perched her little sunglasses on her nose and hit the button for the elevator to the main floor. It will spill her right out onto the beach and she'd spend a few hours roasting in the sun.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

And she was face to face with Leon Kennedy.

She'd met him the day before of course. They'd enjoyed a fabulous evening playing footsie in the local bar. The flirting had gotten dangerous at one point and impossibly fun. He was clearly going to the beach himself. His red trunks were all he was wearing besides little flipflops and those aviator sunglasses that did wonderful things for his face. He had a towel looped over his neck and a smile on that face that haunted her sweaty dreams the night before.

God damn he was gorgeous. She could make out every line and curve of muscle on his body. He likely lived in the gym to look like that. She respected it as she lived there herself. He wasn't trying to bulk up like Chris. But he'd taken his lithe build and gone the other direction: he was finely toned and runner built. Less brawler and more boxer. It was rattling her brains where they'd met before. They had to have met somewhere in the past. Raccoon City survivors didn't go without meeting up at some point. She smiled, setting her hand on her hip.

He had a little hemp bracelet looped around his left wrist. She was curious who had given it to him. Girlfriend? Mommy? She gestured with her other hand.

"You getting on, handsome? I don't bite…too hard."

He laughed, out right, and shook his head. He got on the elevator. The doors swished shut.

"I was temporarily blinded by you in that bikini."

It wasn't much of a bikini, admittedly. It was blue in a shade that bordered on teal and had gold links for the neck. The top was little more than a couple triangles bound by a little gold strap. The bottoms tried to be panties but were closer to a thought than actual fabric. Bikinis – allowing girls to dress slutty and get away with it since their inception.

Even Chris, her best pal in the world, had tripped and fallen into a rack of clothes when she'd come out of the dressing room. Shoulders deep in dresses, he'd stuck his thumb up toward her. She'd laughed, delighted.

She glanced over at him as the elevator descended. He was trying not to grin. She found it charming. And she thought he might be the cutest thing she'd ever met.

"How'd the night treat ya?"

"Awesome," He turned a little toward her, "Couldn't sleep for shit though."

"Oh yeah? Too much scotch?"

"Nah. Hard to sleep when you're plagued by an endless erection."

Thrilled with him, she laughed loud and brightly. She patted his arm, loving the toned muscle in it. "You poor thing. They make hands to take care of that kind of thing."

"Next time I'm going to call your room like some pervert and breathe into the phone."

Yep. She kinda loved him. She dropped her forehead to his arm now and laughed again. "Sounds good to me. Better than watching porn on paper view all night like I did."

"Paid for courtesy of the BSAA?"

"You bet."

Leon nodded. "Your tax dollars hard at work."

The elevator dinged and spilled them out to the sand and the beautiful bar, beach, and playground of sand and sun beyond. It was spotted with tourists and swimmers. The sky was cloudless and endless. The temperature was balmy but breezy. It was a perfect day.

She said, "What do you say we put our towels together?"

"You read my mind, sweet cheeks."

Jill chuckled and they found a bare spot to lay down their towels. She pulled hers off and laid it down. He made some sound, "You're going to start a riot in that damn swim suit."

She lowered her glasses and eyed him. "You're one to talk. How many sit ups does it take to look like that? Like a Men's Fitness magazine."

"You don't want to know." He watched her slather on some kind of oil on her skin. She was something in that suit. All tits and ass, for sure. She hid the tits pretty well under business casual but they were all kinds of sweaty fantasy amazing. And her ass? Well he couldn't think of any words good enough to describe it. She was all legs, ass, flat toned tummy and pin up girl breasts. It was a crime against nature.

"Seriously…you and Chris. You guys a thing?"

She chuckled, "We're a thing."

"Got it."

"No you don't. He's my counter weight. Do I love him? You bet. I'd cut your fucking hands off if you touch him."

"And the sex?"

"What about the sex?"

"Don't be coy here, Valentine. Spill the beans."

"He's not going to knock your teeth down your throat for looking, Kennedy. If that's what you're asking." Although maybe he would. Chris was an odd duck about men looking at her sometimes. "Not sure if it's really your business if I'm sleeping with him though. He's the Ren to my Stimpy."

"He's the Stimpy, by the way."

She laughed, "Ok. He's the Stimpy. You ready to swim, hot shot?"

He was ready to do all kinds of things. But swimming sounded about right. He chased her into the water.

She laughed with delight and swam like a fish. Slippery, smooth, and tantalizing they played in salt water like eels. They bobbed together out toward the farthest buoy.

She pushed that handsome face under the water and watched him come up, sputtering. His hair looked ridiculous now and was in streamers down his face. Laughing, she smoothed it back…and caught her breath. Yeah. That was the magic of him. The hair made the face…at least you thought that until you took away the hair.

Nope. The face made the hair.

He hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her against him. Her hands lingered on his face and then lowered to his upper arms. She'd known, of course, in two seconds that she was interested in him. But she knew now that she was sort of painfully attracted to him.

He grinned at her. She rubbed her thumbs over his biceps, contemplating how far she was willing to take this thing. And he didn't give her any time to think about it…he dunked her.

She came up, laughing. Defeated by her own hormones. It was embarrassing and sobering.

Taking pity on her, he scooped her wet hair out of her face. She bobbed in the water and her hands settled on his chest. Oh, he thought as his brain settled in his groin and hung out there like a teenager, so that's where the wind blew.

She said, "Hi."

He said, "Hi."

She slid her hands around his sides and over his back. His moved to grip that perfect ass and pull her against him. They both made some sound of surprised delight.

"Dangerous," She said softly, "Very dangerous game here, Mr. Kennedy."

It was. Yep.

"Yep," He leaned down to put his lips beside her ear, "You want to stop playing?"

She laughed, thrilled. "Nope." She wrapped her legs around his waist. They were both aware what kept them apart here. It was the people that floated and laughed and played around them.

The thrill of being bad was also what kept them stuck together. He slipped his hand into the top of those tiny little bikini bottoms and she lifted a brow at him. "I usually ask a guy to buy me dinner before he tries to grope me." She punctuated this by rubbing herself against him enough to torture them both.

Leon chuckled, "I will buy you dinner. I will buy you groceries for the next year. Just keep doing exactly what you are doing. If you don't stop, I will create a make shift spear from a pencil and a rock and go and slaughter a cow to feed you."

Jill laughed and shifted herself to feel the press of their chests together. He looked at her like he was drowning. "You're trying to kill me. This is obvious."

"Probably. Possibly. Or kill us both."

"Helluva way to die."

"Definitely." She leaned over him, "You're something, Mr. Kennedy."

His hands slipped a little lower in her bottoms. His voice was a little hoarse and utterly charming when he said, "I'm thinking that something is horny as hell. So, I'm not sure that's as charming as you make it sound."

She rocked against him again and they both moaned a little.

"I should get off of you."

"You should."

"You want me to?"

"No. No I don't."

And they both laughed in a kind of desperate way. The playfulness of it was both sexy, tantalizing, and damning. He slipped his hand down and completely cupped her ass. She murmured and turned her head.

He turned his. They brushed their mouths together, once, twice. She said, "I want to kiss you."

Amused, aroused, he studied her from an inch away, "So kiss me."

"No. I want you to kiss me first."

His head tilted. He was so painfully gorgeous in the dying sun. She wanted to kiss him. She did. But she wanted him to do it first. It was that simple. It was that complicated.

She unhitched herself from around him. "If I kiss you first, you'll fall in love with me. You'll start calling me all the time and leaving messages on my answering machine at 3 am. Next thing I know you'll be under my window at midnight with a boombox."

The humor on his face was bright and joyous. "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah. It happens. I had to stop Chris from singing a love song to me atop a table in J's Bar one night."

He tried to drag her back against him but she floated little further in shore. "Is that so?"

"It's so. Boys can't help but love me. It's my curse on the world."

"Helluva curse."

"Oh yeah. You'll start following me around and stalking me. You'll wait in my lobby to wax intellectual about the color of my hair. It'll be awful."

He kinda thought that might be true. She was something all right.

"I do tend to pick the wrong girls to flirt with."

"I heard that about you. Your timing needs work, Mr. Kennedy."

"How's the timing now? Come back here." Leon followed her out of the water. He caught her hand and dragged her into him, wrapping his arm around her waist. She put her hands on his wet chest and avoided his mouth. It glanced off her cheek.

She laughed and moved away again. "Not like that, hotshot. Nope."

"Tease."

"Probably. But when you kiss me, I want fireworks. I want…the blood to boil and for both of us to drown in it. And I want it to be somewhere where I can kiss you back."

"You give me five minutes, we can go upstairs and I will kiss any part of you, you want. As many times as you want."

Jill smiled, wolfishly. "Five minutes? A whole five minutes? You charmer."

"I lose my charm under pressure."

Jill laughed again, delighted, "I doubt that. You can kiss me, Leon Kennedy, when you can't think of anything else but that. You can kiss me when you will absolutely die if you don't. You can kiss me when you want me and only me."

"You see anybody else? There's only you."

"Liar," Jill wrapped the towel around her and he groaned in disappointment.

"You're killing me here."

"That's the idea." She danced a little up the beach from him, "There's somebody else in there, Mr. Kennedy. Look at you. There's somebody else. You can kiss me when there isn't."

"Come back here."

"Can't do it. Gotta go to work," She waved at him from the top of the rise on the beach, "It'll be a helluva kiss, Leon. I promise you that."

"I have no doubt."

"Might be the best kiss you've ever had. You've heard stories about me having the best hands in Delta right?"

"Yeah? The surgeon."

"How's that heart of yours doing?"

He rubbed his chest. "I think it's still in there. Come back and check for me."

Jill's laughter was musical now and thrilled. "I don't just operate in combat, handsome. I have the best hands in the bedroom too. Not bragging, just saying."

"Show me. I'll let you kill me after."

Oh, he was something. She turned away laughing and ran up the beach toward the hotel. He wasn't a betting man but he was betting she wasn't bragging at all about those hands. But one thing was very clear: she had the best ass in the BSAA and there was no way he'd lose that bet at all.

And Jill? Well she hadn't had a man flirt like that with her in years. Chris was blunt and straight forward. It was charming in its sheer ineptitude. Leon Kennedy knew his way around flirting. He'd made her feel like the prettiest girl on the beach.

She turned back to see him standing by the water, watching her. She laughed with delight and waved. He watched her run into the hotel and rubbed at his chest.

Yep..it was still in there. But she'd almost taken it with her.


	2. A Jetski in the Dark

PART TWO: A JETSKI IN THE DARK

Somewhere outside of Rosu, Japan, 2004  
......

Jill sipped at her sake, staring at the woman across from her. Noriko was beautiful and very tall for a woman of Japanese descent. She was blue eyed, which spoke of mixed heritage, and cold which explained why she had never raised her daughter.

"So you found me."

"Yep. I was curious about you. Curious about what you were like."

"And?"

"Not what I expected."

"You either. Henri was…a fling. I didn't love him. I simply wanted to see what he was like. And then I went home and married the man my parents chose for me. I am Japanese. It is the way of things."

Noriko offered her a cigarette.

Jill declined.

"You ever think about meeting me?"

"No." Noriko rose from the table, "Jillian…you have become something beautiful. You have your father's looks. You have nothing of me but blue eyes. Girls in Japan do not fair well and fair even worse when they are bastards. Be content with the life you had. It is as it was always meant to be. I agreed to meet you to stop your curiosity. You are beautiful and talented and strong. This heart of yours remains weak. And that you get from Henri. It will lead you to a place where you will rot. Go home, return and marry and birth children. Find your place in the world. And know that I have no place there."

"You're my mother," Jill said it like it would change anything. Like it would matter. Like it would make her love the child she'd left behind.

"No. I am the woman who birthed you. This is not the same thing. Be content with what you have. It is all you will ever have. Chasing love will destroy you. Do your duty. It is all that matters. I have legitimate children. I have a husband. You will not know them. Nor they you. Go back home and live. That is my gift to you."

Jill watched her leave, weaving between the tables and out into the street. The little Japanese village was no more than a wide spot in the road. It showed the influence of Buddhism that had come to find its face on the architecture in the late sixth century. Most of the houses were on stilts to counteract the rash of earthquakes the plagued the nation. The water ways were heavily used and the thatched rooves nearly as prevalent as the invasion of obvious signs of Western influence in the glass and stone work. The shrine at the center of town was well preserved and beautiful, offering ornate glimpses in the predating Shinto ceremonies that had once taken place there.

Jill felt no connection here. She didn't feel a homecoming upon arriving. This wasn't her heritage. It was just the place her mother had lived. Her mother..even that word rang false. She'd never had a mother…and it would seem she wouldn't have one now either.

She dropped some yen onto the table and rose, moving away toward the street. The pain in her chest was nearly devastating. She'd come alone. Chris had wanted to come. She'd put him off about it. She had to face this alone.

He'd taken a mission instead with a different partner. He was in the wilds of somewhere being a bad boy. And Jill had come here to face her past.

She sat down on the pier facing the water. The moonlight reflected on the water, casting shadows and glimmering silver. So that was it. She had no family now. She was alone. She had Chris, yes, of course she did. But he had Claire. And she was still alone.

She watched the Jetski coming in the dark.

Curious, she eyed it closely. The girl and the boy on it leaped off at the dock. There were three men in dark suits waiting for them. They spoke, softly, distinctly. The girl tried to go in for a hug and the boy did so, reluctantly. He…patted her head afterward.

Jill chuckled, amused. Poor girl, she looked devastated.

The three suits escorted her to a dark sedan and it drove quietly into the dark.

The boy on the dock rubbed his face with his hands and turned toward where she sat.

And she saw his face.

Her voice came out, overly loud, and unintended, "Leon Kennedy!"

On the other pier, Leon Scott Kennedy, savior of the President's daughter, currently tired, starving, and desperately needing to pee, froze and blinked. He narrowed his eyes in the dark. Who was that?

She was coming toward him.

She was beautiful. The moonlight made her perfect. She was in a white t-shirt and jeans with little white tennis shoes. She looked clean, fresh, and …sad. Her short dark hair bobbed around her chin and showed that flawless face to advantage. No, make up, not a drop, and she was gorgeous.

He wasn't even aware that he was moving. He was aware that he was exhausted. He was aware that he was a lot of things. Pent up came to mind. He'd spent the last eight hours being groped by Ashley Graham on that damn jet ski. The president's daughter was a horny little minx. And he was feeling like a dirty old man for thinking about her naked.

But he was a man. And he'd just survived more shit then he could even begin to go into. He wanted..something. They locked eyes in the moonlight.

Yeah…he wanted Jill Valentine.

What was he doing there!? Who was the girl? She was…happy to see him. It was amazing how much so.

He was filthy and dressed in full combat fatigues. There was dried blood on his face and on his neck. His hair was…still perfect.

She said, "What are you doing here?"

He said, "What are you doing here?"

They paused…and then they laughed.

They met at the end of the pier. He wanted to find out what she tasted like. He wanted to find a dark corner and find out what was under the jeans. He was so ungodly horny it was insane.

She said, "Are you ok?"

He rubbed at his face and laughed a little, roughly, "Long day. Looooong day. And long story. You?"

"Family shit. Sorta. I have…you look…tired. I have a room here. You want a shower or something?"

"Be careful, Jill Valentine. Them's the best words I've heard in days."

She laughed and grabbed his hand. She pulled him into a run beside her. They ran like children up the small dirt road toward her hut. The little wooden stairs creaked as they mounted them, the little hut sitting on stilts over the water that lapped and whispered beneath it.

The inside was softly lit and she flipped on a brighter light. He winced, squinting. She shut it off again with sympathy. "Sorry. Sun blind a little?"

"Staring at the sun on the water all day."

"I understand. The shower is back there. You need something to eat? Something to wear?"

"You are a goddess, you know that."

"It's my curse on the world."

"No curse. Blessing. Yes."

She really looked at him now in the low light. He looked exhausted, yes, but wonderful. He was more muscular than she remembered and the baby cuteness was missing from his face. His had a three day old beard on his perfect face and a really nice black eye starting. He looked like he'd been run through the ringer. Those nicely muscled arms wore elbow pads and tactical gloves. He wore knee pads and had a huge knife strapped to the front of his bullet proof vest. His enormous Magnum was tucked into a thigh holster.

Honestly, he looked like he'd been tossed into hell and survived it. She'd done the math in her head and knew he was younger than her. Not by much but enough that they wouldn't have dated in highschool. It was interesting to be into someone younger. She'd never experienced it before. So the boy on the beach had been a baby in one hand. She'd groped a baby.

She laughed. Baby, her ass. He'd been a baby in Raccoon City. And she'd have probably groped him then too.

"Lucky for you, I have some of Chris' old clothes that got mixed in with my stuff while I was packing."

"You have Chris' clothes lying around mixed with yours?"

"Don't get any ideas, hotshot. I packed at work."

"Mmhmm."

"Kiss ass, Mr. Kennedy."

He chuckled, amused and went to town on his tactical vest. It came loose with a whoosh of metal zipper and clicking straps. He dropped the dirty, grimy, sweaty thing on the floor and felt like he'd lost a hundred pounds. The shirt beneath stuck to him like glue. And there was that body. It was perfectly outlined by the tight black shirt. It was set off by that sexy shoulder holster with his 9mm.

Sweaty or not, he was gorgeous.

"They call you Chrill or something, you know that right?"

"Typical." Jill pulled free a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt for him. "And degrading."

"Nah. It's like…Cleon or whatever they call Claire and I."

"What does Claire get her name first but I'm AFTER Chris? Sexist assholes. You fucking Claire Redfield?"

Amused, he watched her as he pulled off his holster and laid it on the kitchen table. "You jealous?"

Jill chuckled, "That's not an answer."

"What do you think?"

Standing there in that sweaty shirt that was suctioned cupped to his body. She didn't care if he was fucking the pope. Just so long as he started fucking her.

"I think I don't poach other girl's guys. So if you are, you go take that shower and we'll get some dinner. And you go home."

Amused, he eyed her, "And if I'm not?"

"Then you go take your shower and we'll get some dinner and you'll stay here instead."

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head. She nearly forgot hot to breathe. Dirty or not, it was a show. "I'm not fucking Claire. You fucking Chris?"

She was staring at his chest. A bead of sweat had slid down to settle in the soft spill of baby fine hair across his pecs. It was trying to get to his tummy, she just knew it. Who could blame it? The damn thing was a washboard.

She said, "Not today, Mr. Kennedy."

He lifted his brows at her though, "I sensed that hesitance there."

Jill shrugged, smiling a little. "We're red blooded humans, Chris and I. We went there once or twice in the years we've known each other."

"Oh yeah?" Amused, he watched her, "How was it?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Pfft. You don't kiss at all."

He unhooked his belt and the ammunition pack he wore strapped to it. He set both on the table. Each move bunched those arms. He peeled off the elbow pads and set them in a chair. The body was rockin. No doubt. It was like watching someone slowly unveiling themselves. He was giving her horny body a strip show without even trying.

He scratched his stomach and moved toward the bathroom. "Give me like…an hour in there."

She laughed, watching him. "Doesn't take an hour to shower."

"No. But I'm gonna rub one out while I'm in there."

Jill choked on the water she'd been drinking and guffawed out a laugh. "Want some help?"

His musical laughter made her night. The pain from her mother drifted away on the simple flirtation. From the bathroom, he called, "I wouldn't say no. You gonna let me kiss you?"

"Not today, Mr. Kennedy. Aren't you still on duty?"

"Story of my life."

She waited until the water was running and the steam was billowing out of the bathroom. She picked up his dirty clothes and put them in the wash room for later. He was singing in the shower. Singing. It was something wonderful and haunting.

He sang like he looked: incredible.

And then she went into the bathroom.

There were usually two things that kept Jill Valentine moving when the pain of her life was bad. One was good music. She had that playing now in the living room. Evanescence was singing about bringing to life with a vengeance. The second was emotion. She embraced it. It was raw and real and painful and pure. She didn't, ever, run from it. She embraced it. When things broke her, she felt them and let them in and grew from them.

Whatever else was true, she had feeling for Leon Kennedy. She didn't know what they were. They were complicated and simple and real. And she wanted to feel them. Because they made her happy.

What would happen if she put her hands all over him? The dominantly male side of her brain said: Find out. She could see him moving behind the curtain. She wanted to see him naked. And put her mouth on him.

Life was short and filled with death. She wanted to see him naked before she died. Today was as good a day as any. She stripped off all of her clothes and got in the shower.

He was soaping his face and his hair. The water in the shower at the bottom was pink and black with old dirt and blood. He had a series of welts down the side of his neck and over his collarbone. Someone had hit him with a shock rod. He had what looked to be a burn on his left forearm. His cheek had an inch long bleeding cut on it that looked red and painful. The soap trailed over his stomach and lower and made her feel like she wanted to either die, fuck, or die fucking.

And yeah, of course, he had a beautiful dick.

He rinsed his face and his stomach muscles bunched with it. She put her hand out to touch that ridiculous tummy.

She'd expected a lot of things…but not that he'd shove her hard and fast against the wall. He cross armed her at the throat and pinned her there. And she felt it, the soft boil of sympathy, because it was how a warrior reacted to an attack. There was something haunting in that gaze that held hers. What had happened to him? She made no move to stop him or block him.

He was breathing fast and hard…and he had a knife pressed to her belly. The sympathy bubbled again and hurt her. He had taken the knife into the shower with him. Where had it been while he soaped up? Probably tucked on the shelf with the shampoo. What had they done to him?

The killer in his eyes retreated and left him startled. He immediately released her. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No. I'm sorry I startled you."

He shook his head and flipped the knife in his hand tossing it away. It clattered onto the floor outside of the curtain. "Sorry. Habit."

"It's ok. Helluva habit. What the fuck did they do to you?"

He shook his head again and all that hair was in his eyes. The eyes were haunted and they haunted her. All those dark lashes and those eyes the color of winter sky. Jesus.

In the steamy shower, the haunted look remained and then was over run, fast and immediate by the want. She made some sound and he moved again. He pressed her back against the wall and she wrapped her arms around him. They both made sounds of need when their naked bodies pressed together.

She held him and his face pressed against her neck, breathing.

It should have turned into something fast and desperate but it was almost..more than that. What had happened to him? Something bad enough that he needed held. It was ok…she needed held too.

Jill pulled him tight to her, crushing her breasts against his chest. He kept his hands on the wall bracketing her head. He didn't touch her…but for his face against her neck. Leon rubbed and ground his forehead there against her. Was he trying to wipe away what was behind his eyes?

She put her mouth against one closed eye and then the other. She kissed his forehead, the line of his nose, his chin. She kissed the curve of his jaw and drew one of his ear lobes between her teeth. He made some kind of a noise of hunger and licked a wet line over her shoulder. And still he didn't touch her.

She kissed over his throat and the top of one shoulder. She scooped his hair back out of his face and licked his mouth. He opened his eyes, a drowning thing, blue like the sky over the snow in Russia in winter. Kiss me, she thought, now is when you kiss me.

He dipped his head and touched their foreheads together.

She froze, undone. She knew only that now she wanted to wipe that look from his eyes. She'd give him something else to flush away the fear.

The fear would kill you if you let it. It had almost gotten her after Raccoon City. If it hadn't been for the man who'd come and flushed the fear away.  
.......

Heart Song, Ohio 1998  
.......

The shower beat at her face, blending with the tears that streamed hard and fast down her cheeks. She curled against the wall, sobbing. The Nemesis was gone. It was gone. It was gone but still here. It wouldn't let her go.

The faces, the dead, the dying. The city filled with infected and screaming. The fire, the blood, the pile of dead babies she'd stumbled across in the incinerator. Who could burn their own babies?

Two days in a coma while the infection raped her raw. She'd dreamed, lost, and screaming inside as the fire had claimed her blood. She'd awakened to the vaccine in her arm. She'd survived.

But what was the price? Would she never escape it?

The bathroom door opened and she heard that voice. He'd left her to chase down Umbrella. He'd left her and she'd gone back. She'd gone back to help. She'd gone back to nearly die. She'd wanted to go with him…but she'd gone back.

"Jill?"

She wanted to answer him. But she couldn't move. She huddled in the hot water, weeping.

He opened the shower door and found her there, collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Jill!" He climbed into the shower with her. Chris Redfield, her pal. The first boy to make her laugh when she arrived in Raccoon City. So adorably ridiculous. He did magic tricks with a cup and a rubber chicken. He'd punched her boyfriend in the face the night they'd found him in J's Bar with another woman. He loved his sister and spoke of her with pride.

He was hell on wheels with those fists.

He was in a white t-shirt and jeans. He was getting soaked. He didn't give a fuck, clearly. He settled down on the floor and pulled her into him. She wrapped her arms around him and moved between his legs to get closer.

They'd told him she was dead.

He'd been in Europe locating Umbrella's underground facility there. They'd said she was dead. The girl with the penchant for dirty jokes and beating the shit out of anyone in poker. She possibly cheated, he didn't care. She smoked cigars and drank him under the table. She liked hot dogs and baseball and cursed like a sailor at a bad ref call.

He'd been stateside before Barry had gotten in touch to say she was alive. Safe. But she'd been infected. The idiot Carlos had saved her. That idiot. Who faked a stupid accent to get girls?

Jill hiccupped in his arms now and drew his attention back to her face. She was puffy from crying so much. She opened her eyes to look at him. He looked like a drowned rat. He had cut his hair…thank god. He'd had that awful thing happened that reminded her of Vanilla Ice. It was the mid-twenty something style of the moment. He'd cut it off when they'd fled Raccoon.

He had a beard too. Sorta full and hiding his baby face boy next door good looks. He felt a little bigger under her hands as she held him. He'd been given to big shoulders a few months before but he was apparently bulking up while he looked for Umbrella.

He said, "Whose ass am I kicking?"

She laughed and hiccupped again. "Mine. You caught me with my pants down here."

"I don't see any pants…which is good for me. Maybe not so good for you. Don't shift any closer or you'll see how good it is for me, by the way."

Jill laughed again and cuddled closer to him. And yep, he was happy to see her. She lifted a brow, studying him. He stared back, no blinking.

"So there's that happening," He remarked, "I have inappropriate reactions to girls crying. I am a rather stupid man."

"No. Not stupid." Perfect. He was perfect. Right then, he was perfect. And just what she needed. "I think I need you now."

No games here. He wasn't built for it. He studied her, "What do you need?"

She said, "Make me forget."

"Done."

And he had. Just like that. He'd pushed her to her back on that shower floor and made her forget. He'd flushed out the fear and left her throbbing. Emotion was her thing. And he brought it. He'd put her on the floor of the shower and stripped away anything but emotion. He kissed like he fought, all strength and passion.

Sometimes you needed to strip away everything to find the thing that hurt and destroy it.

It was the first time she realized she was going to love him for it.

After that, any time they fought, survived and bled, they'd turned to each other and taken away the pain. No strings. No drama. No mess. Just skin and forgetting.

Sometimes a little sex helped erase the darkness.  
.......

Japan, 2004  
........

She couldn't open him up and cut out the darkness. She wasn't that kind of surgeon. But she could pull a Chris Redfield on him. She could help him forget.

Her hands curled up his back and pulled him tighter to her. She could feel his heart beating hard against her breasts. She could feel the pulse of his need pressed against her belly. She skimmed her hands down his back and pulled his hips forward to brush against her body.

They both made little gasps.

Christ, she thought, how was this hotter than anything she'd ever done before? This…wanting. This not doing a damn thing but touching. How was it the hottest thing she'd ever done?

He collapsed his lower body against her and gave her the full feel of him. He pinned her against the wall with it. And still he didn't touch her.

Leon put his teeth against the side of her throat and nipped at her. She skimmed her hands over his ass and pressed him against her again. He groaned and his hands came down finally and settled on her hips. He pulled her into him and pushed against her. He slid over her belly, hard but soft, needy. The contradiction of his body was echoed in him. He was a complicated creature, Jill mused, and she had a yen for him that was something fierce.

She drove her nails into his ass and killed them both with the greed of it.

He finally spoke, hoarse and deep, "Just…let me…" His hands lifted her, shifted her, and she opened her legs enough for him to nestle there against the damp heat of her. They both panted, panted like they'd run a marathon. What was this? She thought, this intense attraction that made them both brainless with it, was this what people called longing?

One of his hands skimmed over the back of her thigh and lifted her leg enough that he could thrust his body over her and try to murder them both with the promise of it. Jill grabbed at his hips to hold him there and rubbed herself on him. He muttered an absolutely filthy string of words that sounded so unlike him.

She was so turned on it was killing her to stay silent. She understood the frustration. Jill kissed over his eyes again and he opened them. There was something in them that hurt her and healed her and made her feel a little less alone in the world. What did he need, right then, in that moment?

She said, "I'm here. I'm right here."

He made sound desperate sound and rubbed against her again. She shivered and held his face. He kept his eyes on her and rubbed again, a little faster. She made some sound of ascent and he caught the backs of both her thighs and lifted her, smashing her back against the wall. He was stronger than his lithe build implied. He didn't even seem to strain under the weight of her. She gasped in surprise and wrapped both of her legs around him, securing them by putting the soles of her feet against his calves. He braced one hand on the wall beside her and put the other between their bodies. He stroked her and she made a desperate little keen in her throat.

Like a man who was drowning, he groaned and ground himself against her. She grabbed at his shoulders and held on. He stroked her and it was a little unsure and yet a little desperate. She found it touching that he was nervous. She couldn't possibly know that he wasn't nervous at all, he had no idea what he was doing. He was going on pure instinct.

His fingers brushed the right spot and she let out a cry of surprised delight. Ok, he thought a little desperately, so that was the money shot right there. He stroked her again and she bowed toward him. Yep. That was it. He stroked her in time with the slide of his body over her, over her. She was making some sound of yearning and he knew he was doing something right.

He wanted to plunge into her and rip her open and find the blood inside of her that beat for him. He wanted to find out what she tasted like inside, outside, and her mouth. He rubbed their mouths together. But he didn't kiss her. She deserved a better kiss then one wrapped up in the bonds of first time jitters and confusion and whatever mess was looping through his guts right now.

He should just fuck her. He should. They both wanted it. It was just sex. Just sex and skin and this bone shaking, blood boiling, ungodly attraction that made him feel like he was sixteen and trying to touch his first boob. A six second bang against the shower wall would make them both feel better.

Well...maybe him anyway.

But she deserved better than that. Right?

She made a mewling cry in her throat and went board stiff against him. He slid his fingers inside her to feel it. She was damp, slick, and tight and damning. Good god. She clenched around his hand and came, bucking a little. He stroked that sweet spot with his thumb and felt her body vibrate with desperate need.

He watched her flushed face and closed eyes with a sense of wonder…and a little sense of accomplishment. Turned out he was ok at this after all. So maybe he'd fuck her. Maybe it was now or never. He'd never wanted anything more.

He shifted her to impale her on himself and she bucked against him again. He slid his hand out of the way and she ran herself slick moistness over his body. She was making some sound, she was grabbing his ass and rubbing their bodies together. He wasn't going to make it to the impaling part. Nope.

Leon dropped his head and ran his tongue over one of those perfect nipples. She cried out and he sucked it into his mouth. Nope. Not gonna make it, his body told him. So he jerked her against him and ground his body against the moistness of her cleft. He ran himself against her, once, twice, three times and buried his face between her breasts. She clutched at him, moaning.

That was it. He was done. He jerked, gasped, and spilled himself against her nearly falling to the floor with the skin raping, soul stealing rush of it. She made a hungry little moan again and the sticky spill of it settled into the springy hair of her mound and her belly.

Leon shuddered, lost, and rubbed himself against her once more. She could not even begin to understand what had just happened here. He hadn't blown his load on a girl…ever. And he hadn't even blown his load alone in…he couldn't even remember.

He prepared himself for the walk of shame when this was done. Girls like Jill Valentine probably didn't have horny virgins rubbing themselves all over them without a good fucking afterward. Nope. He'd have to tell her the dirty truth now.

He leaned back to look down at her. She didn't look angry. She looked…soft. And beautiful. And she was smiling at him.

Girls were odd creatures.

He said, softly, "Women."

Jill cupped his face as he let her legs slide down to the floor. There was less haunting in those eyes. And she'd…she'd never had a man get so excited by her to go like that. It was…probably the sexiest thing that had ever happened to her.

She brushed a thumb over his cheek. "You're bleeding a little."

He bit that thumb, gently and tortured them both. "I'll live. You got in the shower."

"I did."

"I'm glad you did."

He pressed her back against the wall and filled his hands with her breasts. She gasped, skin prickling. He had to know if they felt as perfect as they tasted. Nope…better. They barely fit in his hands. She shivered, grabbing at his arms.

"God damn, you're perfect."

Aroused, amused, she smiled at him. "Look who's talking."

He said, "I want to kiss you."

And she laughed and then moaned as he tugged at her breasts, almost playfully, "Not today, Mr. Kennedy. You know when."

"Yeah, I know when." He ran his hands over her stomach and the tops of her thighs. He brushed at the stickiness he'd left on her belly and rinsed it away. "I needed that."

"Me too," She turned him now and washed his back for him, it was oddly domestic, "You have no idea how much I needed that."

"Want to tell me about it?"

She turned and he washed her back as well. His hands skimmed over her ass and passed along the inside of her thighs, torturing them both. She shivered, delighted in the torture of it. He knelt in the water and washed her legs. She leaned on the shower wall and let him wash over her hips and belly. He spent a great deal of time on washing her breasts.

She was torn between unbelievable arousal and amusement. Boys would be boys with the tits. Always.

She told him about her mother. He told her about the President's daughter. They laid naked together on the little cot in the hut and talked until the sun started to rise. He told her about the Ganado, about Wesker's involvement. He mentioned Ada Wong and had her antenna sensing who the other woman was inside his brain.

Jill waited for him to make his move. She waited for him to roll on top of her and take her. She waited and he didn't. He was either the world's most respectful gentleman, or there was more to this story than she knew. So, she enjoyed him.

Jill told him about the police academy. She told him about Delta. She told him about the Spencer Estate. She told him about Chris and the first time he'd kissed her.

Interested, Leon trailed his fingers over her belly as she talked. It was gentle, almost non-sexual. It was like petting. Or hugging. She liked it.

"So, there WAS something there."

"There was. Is. Always has been. He's mine and I'll kill anyone who hurts him. But I don't think he's the one for me. Not like that."

Genuinely curious, he asked, "Why not?"

Jill stared at the ceiling, considering, "Sometimes you just know something. I knew and he knew, I think, that we were there to comfort each other, to love each other, but not be in love with each other. Does that make sense?"

"…actually yeah."

She rolled to lay her head on his stomach and he played with her hair. "And how about other men? Nobody won you after all this time?"

"Won me?" She laughed at the idea. "No. But interested me? Sure. I had a thing with Carlos in the beginning. He was handsome if a little bumbling. We tried a kiss or two. It didn't work. I had a boyfriend who was kinda serious. He cheated. Chris kicked his ass. I dated Kevin Ryman in Raccoon City a million years ago. I've had a few lovers when the mood struck. But Chris and I keep finding our way back to each other when the mood suits. What about you?"

So, the Chris situation was complicated it seemed. He understood messy.

Ah. The inevitable question. How to avoid it? "There was a girlfriend in highschool. We broke up right before Raccoon City. We met, you know, in Raccoon City?"

She blinked, stared. Her brain was blank. "When? During the outbreak?"

"Nope. Just before. I was there for an interview to join the RPD. Fresh out of the academy. Skinny, scared, and -"

"Oh my GOD!" She rolled to look at him. She stacked her hands on his chest. "You had long hair!"

She laughed with delight and wonder. "You were such a cutie!"

"Good lord," He winced and chuckled, "That's just what a guy wants to hear."

He was. He had been. He still was. It was hard to remember the skinny little boy when faced with the man before her. He was still young. Very young. His bio said he was younger than her by a few years. But he didn't look young lying there. He looked…tired….and haunted.

"What did you see there? What did this?" She brushed a thumb over the black eye gently, "What put that fear in your eyes?"

He tried to glance away and she held his face a little, "Don't run. I don't judge. Damnit, Leon. I've seen my share of things that would scare the shit out anyone with eyes. Who the hell else understands it?"

So, he told her about Saddler. He told her about enormous things that tried to crush him. He told her about the endless running, the endless fighting. He told her…about Ada Wong. It wasn't the whole story. But it was the beginning.

He told her about Luis Sera…and the dying. He'd died, he said, died trying to make it right.

She listened and stroked him.

They played chess and he'd kicked her ass without even breaking a sweat. She'd read somewhere that he was a genius. He had aptitude scores that were not only admirable but impressively off the charts. Girls might have stumped him but logic didn't. He was driven and dedicated, smart and loyal, he clearly was good on his feet and….in the shower.

Clearly the shower is where Raccoon City survivors went to work on their demons with sex. She laughed, amused by it. She'd shared the shower with two completely different survivors from that time. Each had their own story and their own reasons for being in it with her. Once she'd been comforted and loved, this time she'd been the one offering it. How things changed.

As the dawn edged over the horizon, she curled up beside him. They drifted into sleep wrapped around each other like two puzzle pieces that finally fit together. When she woke up, snuggling a pillow, she discovered he'd left.

He'd snuck away like he'd arrived - on a jetski in the dark. He'd stolen some part of her and he'd never even fucked her.

A curious thing...when she was the one they called the thief.


	3. The Slow Roll

PART THREE: THE SLOW ROLL

"If he'd but said it, said it once, the world and all he knew would have been his for the taking."

The Queen Dido, 2005  
.......

The spill of darkness was thick and deep. It wouldn't let you out. It wouldn't let you in. It did nothing but hold you down and let you rot inside of it.

She felt the fire of death burn in her blood. It taunted at her and tempted her to take the promise of peace. She rolled to her back and looked at the darkness. The ship listed to one side badly. The mutated and putrid body of Norman slid along the floor close to her. He was dead…it was dead…it had to be. Chris appeared above her, bleeding badly. He picked her up anyway. That was the thing about big muscles, they had their purpose.

The ship was on fire. She could smell it. The fight had gone bad, gotten worse, and ended in fire and blood. They'd won…they had evidence against Morgan. But was this the cost? Would they die trying to escape?

Chris slogged against the water, telling her the already sunken ship was soon going to be completely submersed. She'd have to swim. She didn't think she'd make it. She grabbed his face.

"Leave me here!"

"Don't be stupid, Jill! You know that won't happen."

"Chris I won't make it! I won't make it. I'm too hurt. It's too far. I can't swim. I'm done! But you're not! Get out of here. Get to the evac and get the hell out of here. This is a good place to go. The day is saved right? Let me go."

"Shut up," He went under the water. She had no choice but to hold her breath. She clung around him like a monkey as he swam. And here the muscles were his friend too. He moved well for such a big man. And he did it without her added weight bothering him.

When she lacked for air, he gave her that too. He pressed his mouth to hers and breathed. They popped out of the water with Jill gasping and Chris breathing hard. He shared the respirator they had left between them. He was something.

He carried her to the surface and brought her out to the chunk of tree covered land where they were to be evacuated from. Jill coughed, the world spinning, and something hot and wet touched her face. She looked down to see his blood spilling across her.

He was bad. Really bad. His shoulder looked like hamburger.

But he'd carried her free.

She could hear a helicopter close by. She could smell the fire. She could smell his blood.

He collapsed onto his knees but held onto her. She turned toward him. He wavered in front of her. She started to go into the darkness and he called her name, "Stay with me!"

She opened her eyes, so tired. He kissed her. He was crying. Big strong he-man, he was crying. She kissed him back. He was crying. The strongest man she'd ever known. He was crying for her. She wanted to hold him forever.

He said, "Don't die on me, Jill. I love you."

Oh, she thought, oh. What was in that I love you?

She went into the dark again holding onto him.  
.....

BSAA, HQ  
.....

When she awoke, she was immediately debriefed. The hospital where she was held was Greer in Hoffnung, Germany. It was the best place to treat anyone who you wanted to have classified care. The BSAA was a mess. The FBC was a mess. The betrayal and the cover up and the conspiracy was wide spread and many layered.

They'd need to do some heavy repair to fix it.

The only problem was how deep and wide the damage was. It had smaller subsects of problems. The Dido wasn't the only ship out there causing trouble. And the betrayal by Jessica Sherawat guaranteed that their secrets were for sale to the highest bidder.

Umbrella, Veltro, the BSAA, and the FBC were now a public traded commodity. The black market was over saturated with information and secrets. Traitors, competitors, and any one with the funds were able to buy enough damning data to kill agents, topple countries, and infect millions. The fight they'd been trying to win had just tipped badly against them.

The clean up would be massive and the battle had just gotten impossible. It would take more help than they had at their disposal. They needed a bigger gun.

They got one: in the form of Leon Kennedy.

He came off the chopper like the unstoppable force he'd become. The rumor mill, the gossip factory, and the mouths of those involved flapped like mad regarding him. He was the President's golden boy, his hired gun, his spartan warrior. They called Leon Kennedy when they needed it done quiet, fast, and brutal.

She watched him climb out of the chopper like the hammer of god. One man. They sent one man. Were they kidding? Looking at him, she didn't think it was a joke. She thought the joke was on them. One man was all they were going to need.

He saw her across the tarmac. Some guy was talking to him. Leon nodded, hair whipping in the wind from the chopper blades.

She felt the smile lift her mouth. She lifted a hand and waved.

He winked at her.

Why did that make her feel about twelve years old? Jill chuckled a little at herself.

Beside her, Mira said, "Is he not the yummiest thing you've ever seen? Watch me play a little cat and mouse game with him."

Jill chuckled, amused. She clearly didn't know who she was messing with. But it would be fun to watch. Mira was pretty and all boobs and tiny hips. She was tiny in size, barely topping out at five feet. But she was also hilarious. Honestly, it would be fun to see her try.

Jill said, amused, "Go for it. He sure is something."

"Something yummy. I hear he killed a hundred men once with a fork, his fist, and a jar of pickles."

Jill nodded, delighted with the humor of it. "Oh yeah? I heard he killed that many zombies with a pashmina and a pillow and what was left of a People magazine."

Mira giggled a little, "What an image."

"Right?"

He came toward them and Jill moved back to engage someone else in conversation. She stayed close enough to listen to Mira make her move. Surprisingly, he was charming. Charming, a little flirty, and managed to come off flattering while still being clear about the declination of her offer. It was a helluva guy who could shoot down a girl and not leave her bitter.

Leon Kennedy pulled it off flawlessly.

Mira actually walked away charmed and a little in love with him.

Was there a woman alive who wasn't in love with Leon Kennedy?

Jill picked up some gear from the ground and started carrying it back to the building. She knew he was close behind her before he even spoke. "You trying to avoid me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, hotshot," Jill remarked pleasurably, "We've got a meeting to get to."

"We could just get on that chopper over there and run away instead."

She glanced at him and grinned, "You? Shirk your duty? Who are you kidding?"

"Why don't you stop and turn around and I'll show you how I shirk my duty."

"How do you make that sound dirty?" She laughed, loudly, "Don't be crass, Leon Kennedy, it doesn't suit you. Help me carry this."

Jill pushed it at him and he carried it, effortlessly. She walked beside him, aware that if they spent too long with each other, people would start talking. She was less inclined to care than usual.

"Crass? What a word. How have you been, Jill?"

"Great. You'd know if you'd called me."

"Ouch. In my defense, I haven't even been home since I last saw you. Between missions and more missions, I can't even remember what my loft looks like. I'm pretty sure my fish is dead though."

"Aw," Jill chuckled a little, "Poor Mr. Flippy."

"I sure hope my super keeps feeding him."

He would be concerned about his bug eyed gold fish. He was just that type of guy. She patted his arm sympathetically.

"What are we looking at here?"

"Could be a basic in and out. Could be a complete mess."

"Awesome. Enlighten me."

The mission was going to take them back to Terragrigia. It was going to dump them in the skeleton of their former playground. The intel told them that under Terragrigia, the remnants of Umbrella had taken refuge. There was whispers of Wesker and "the organization" which was a broad, very hard to find, ghost organization that was said to have its hands in more assassinations than the government.

It wasn't a bad place to have set up a secret lair, honestly. Terragrigia was cordoned off and off limits. No one ventured there. The effects of the damage were still widely controversial. The mass energy blast had decimated the town and whoever, whatever, and whatever had been left standing. But the lingering affects on the ecosystem were in question. The Queen Dido had gone down in flames and madness and monsterous mess but the rest of the city waited for their attention.

Fresh off the Harvardville incident, Leon was the first and only call. Chris had been irate when they told him. "Are you fucking kidding me? No offense to the guy but he's one dude! One! Bring the fucking military and go in there. Beard the dragon in his lair and fucking kill him! If Wesker is down there, one god damn guy won't stop him! Do you understand that? Barry, back me up here!"

They were in the conference room. Chris was still wounded but healing. Jill had recovered quickly and easily. Apparently, there were benefits to the T-Virus she'd carried once and the vaccine that had followed. She seemed to heal fast. She wanted to talk about that I love you, he'd said. He played it off with a joke. So she let it go. One didn't push Chris Redfield to get sappy. If you did, he balked a bit, and reverted to stoic professionalism or humor.

Barry Burton was sitting in a chair with the other members of the remaining BSAA founders. The BSAA was in the process of acquiring the FBC and being redesigned. Things were a mess at best. The UN was likely to assume control. And Clive was stepping down as director. Chris had tried to talk him out of it but he remained adamant. He'd still sit in as advisor. There was talk of Barry succeeding him.

It was offered to Chris, whom graciously declined. "No," He said, "I'm a field guy. Always will be. Not a suit."

Barry said, quietly, "One guy is the right way to go here, Chris. You spook him, god knows what he'll do. He's insane. And if he isn't down there? One guy gets in, gets out, and we have answers."

Chris shifted, angrily, there wasn't a face amongst them that was in his favor. "Fine! Then send me."

Barry said, "You're too hurt. What good would it do?"

Chris cursed angrily and smashed his fist on the table, the sound was loud and startling. Several jumped. Chris pointed at Leon who was sitting quietly against the far wall. "So, it's this guy or nothing?"

Jill replied, where she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, "No. It's that guy. And me."

The faces all turned to her.

"I know that place like the back of my hand. I was the ambassador there. Kennedy and I were there together at one point. He can't go alone. But he can go with me."

She didn't look directly at him. She was afraid she'd turn to stone. She knew he was looking at her though. Instead, she moved to Chris and took his forearm in her hand, "You can lead the mission here. I'll stay in direct contact. You can't go. But I CAN."

She put her hand over his wounded shoulder. It was a mess. It was ragged and had been burned badly. She was shocked he hadn't lost the arm or use of it. But he hadn't. He just had to let it heal. He'd be scarred to all hell but functional. It was good enough.

"You saved my ungrateful life back there. Let me do this. I can do it. You know that."

Chris looked at her face. There were people all around them. He was known for his ability to separate the mission from the emotion. He never played, never flirted, and never fucked around. But she was his weakness, always had been. The only damn thing he broke the rules for, ever. He lifted his hand and put it over hers on his shoulder. There wasn't a person in the room that couldn't feel the intensity of it. Whatever else was true, these two people cared about each other. "Ok. But you're in charge. Make sure he knows that."

Jill nodded, watching his face. There was still something there. She wanted to know what it was. But Chris was careful to only show so much.

Against the wall, Leon said, "I'm not here to step on your toes, Redfield. You sent out the call for help. They sent me."

Chris turned to him, an angry storm, "I didn't ask for help. These people did. I helped found this fucking organization and some asshat disgrace came in and took a big dump right in the middle of my parade. I'm pissed. And rightly so. We've brought the bioterror ratio down since the BSAA was founded by nearly half. And in one ugly swing, Lansdale kicked it right in the crotch and jumped on my hitlist of people I'm going to destroy. Things are such a fucking mess here that the rest of these people asked for help. Do we get the CIA? Do we get the FBI? Do we get a clown car filled with AK47s and bombs? No. Naturally not. We get Leon Kennedy."

The other people in the room shifted uncomfortably at the tension.

Jill said, softly, "That's enough, Chris."

"No," He pointed at her and shifted to point at Leon, "You better be as good as they say. I read the Kennedy Report, so I know you're capable of rising above. But you're still one fucking guy."

"I was one fucking guy then too, Redfield. And I managed just fine."

"It only takes one mistake, Kennedy. I don't care how good you are."

Leon nodded, a little, "True. But I don't make mistakes."

"I guess we'll find out. Because you've got my organization hanging around your neck here. My big, ugly squalling mess of a baby is relying on you. Fuck this up, you join that hit list of people I'll destroy. I'll ruin you professionally. I will have you black balled from every doorstep and every dinner where there's potential for you to grow. And after that? I'll come after your fucking balls."

Leon shifted away from the wall now. There was that finally leashed rage around him that vibrated with intensity. "Watch where you go with this, Redfield. I can appreciate that you're pissed, I can't blame you. Getting wounded sucks. This whole thing is a shit show. But don't think that gives you the fucking green light to threaten me. I don't handle threats well."

"Not a threat, Kennedy. A promise. You don't just have my company hanging on your shoulders…this will be the third time you've been responsible for keeping what I care about most in this universe safe. Don't fucking let me down. You won't like what happens if you do."

"You talking about the BSAA or are you talking about the girl beside you?"

The room was so tense it was painful. But he answered, the man who never admitted to anything, Chris answered, "Both. One I can rebuild, the other I can't. You let anything happen to her, I'll make it my personal mission to bury you."

It was the first time, ever, Jill had heard him admit it out loud. She was touched at the same time she was little insulted. Did he think she needed Leon Kennedy to protect her? She wasn't Claire.

"Not sure if you realize this, but I have a tendency to save the girl."

"Keep joking, Kennedy. I heard that about you. All fucking charm and humor. But the jokes on you. You keep getting handed the things that matter to me most in the world, you skinny, arrogant little prick. You better be as good as they say."

"I'm not. I'm better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

Leon took another step toward him and so did Chris. This was going to go bad, very quickly.

Jill moved a little…and just like that, she was between them.

They both glanced down at her, surprised.

She held Leon's gaze for a long moment, giving him a pointed glare. Who poked a stick in the eye of a bear? This guy did. He clearly didn't know that Chris was the punch first, ask questions later type. And fast or not, if Chris got his hands on him, he was dead.

Jill turned and put her hands on that big chest. She pushed and it got Chris' attention. "Stop it. Now. You're not helping. You're pissed off and looking for a fight. He's not who you're mad at. You're mad at yourself. You got hurt. You can't fight now. And that makes you furious. But that's ok. Because I can fight. I don't need him to protect me. I'm not Claire."

Chris was still watching the other man over his head. "Move out of the way, Jill."

Jill pushed at him again, "Look at me. Now."

He glanced down at her. She could see what Leon Kennedy couldn't. He wasn't just hurting, he was scared. So used to being the guy who saved the day, he was being emasculated here. And worse yet? He was being told to stay home and twiddle his thumbs. Chris was an alpha dog. He didn't understand sit, stay, or roll over. He was watching everything he built implode from the inside and could do nothing. She knew it was killing him.

Punching the shit out of Leon Kennedy would make that easier to swallow for him.

"I'm not Claire. I don't need you to save me. I don't need Leon Kennedy to save me. I can save myself."

"Yeah? You nearly died a few weeks ago."

"Yes I did." And she saw it, in that moment, she saw the hardest part for him. He was afraid he was the only man on earth that could keep her alive. "Look at me."

He did but it cost him. Because looking at her was harder than threatening Leon Kennedy. It cost him to look at her. He'd held her while she'd bled on that fucking ship. He'd held her when she stopped breathing. He'd held her and wanted to love her.

And he was a wise enough man to know that that door was not for him and her to open together. She'd never quite given him the signs that she was interested in that. So the door stayed closed. But nearly losing her had stuck a foot in it for him. He would close it again and wedge it shut but for now, he was a little raw about letting her go out again so soon.

"You have to trust me. I know what I'm doing. And so does he. You can't do this, Chris. But I CAN. You know that. It's ok to be afraid but I can do this."

He scanned her face, twice, three times. "If there's a choice, you or him? You let him go."

"Chris…" She shook her head, smiling, "You big softie. Of course, I won't let him go. You know me better than that."

"I do…damn you." He raised his head again, "You and me? I can see this from a hundred yards. You bring her back untouched. Or I'll feed you those pretty white teeth."

"I'd love to see you try. Keep flexing all those muscles. I don't need them to kick your ass."

Jill pointed at Leon over her shoulder. Idiot man. "Stop it. Quit antagonizing him. Jesus, you two are so alike."

Both of them looked offended by that.

"You two flaming bags of testosterone need to go somewhere and cool off. Now. This is my mission. I'm in charge. Go stick your balls on ice and deal with it."

She pushed on Chris again, "I mean it, Chris. Now."

He made some sound of frustration and jerked away from her.

She felt him go like a burst of angry, burning flame. Leon stood behind her like an icy wind. She was trapped between two opposing forces. It was a rough place to be.

Chris stormed out and the other members started to disband. Jill took a deep breath and let it out. It had been close. She didn't need these two fighting it out in the conference room over pride. Geez Louise.

Jill gathered up her notebook and followed them out the door. She wasn't going to stay. She wasn't ready to face Leon Kennedy yet although she knew he was still standing there.

What was there to say?

Hey Jill, sorry I left like that but thanks for the naked soul bearing? It was too awkward. She wasn't sure why it irked her to have found him gone but it had. She didn't like cowards. And she felt like he'd fled screaming from her.

Honestly she was a little worried how the dynamic of their relationship was going to shift the mission. She and Chris had always had ease on missions. No matter what they did or didn't do in the bedroom. Hopefully Leon Kennedy knew where to tow the line the same way.

She went to mission preparation to start gathering weapons. The prep team guided her through the scenario. They'd enter by submarine pods and have to enter underwater to the main facility. The concepts said that the main part of the original lab building was still accessible and preserved. The top floors could be accessed from the bottom. They'd been built intentionally to resist water. What was the purpose of an aquapolis if a little water were to sink it? So, the functionality of the buildings beneath the water was said to be in a good shape.

The few probes they'd sent in had confirmed there was life down there. They just didn't know if it was human or mutant. If the hunters hadn't died above ground, they may have gone to thrive under the water. Or it was the splinter cell of bad guys. That was the idea.

She found Chris in his office, rifling through papers. He glanced up at her as she entered. He was starting to get as big as he'd been trying to when she'd met him. His shirt was tight and fit in all the right places. All muscle, all business, all bullshit.

She and Chris had been doing it, obviously. They were easy with each other, friends with benefits when it suited, and safe behind the closed doors of their mutual respect for each other. Objectively, you had to love Chris Redfield. He was handsome and funny and stupidly adorable. But she had never really considered being anything permanent with him. They made perfect friends and awesome partners and fabulous best friends. He didn't get jealous when she dated, she didn't get jealous when he did. That told them both that, although they were attracted to each other, it wasn't the kind that moved mountains or made marriages. He was dynamite in bed, no joke, but so was she. And it was so casually infrequent that it never hurt their relationship to do it.

And then he'd said I love you on that boat. And everything she thought she knew was lost and muddled. She was a little confused for the first time in long time.

She closed the door to his office and leaned on it. "Spill it, Redfield. What's the problem?"

He slapped down the papers. "You cock blocked me in there. You sided with that skinny wimp. I can handle this fucking mission, Jill. We don't need him."

She loved all that energy he had. The simmer of a boil beneath the surface. She was the only one that ever got to see it. He was so careful to spill it only when he couldn't contain it anymore. Chris Redfield was lava. He burned where he touched.

And he was burning now. She'd wounded him in there. She'd hit him in the pride. And he had a shit ton of it. Sympathetic and a little irritated at the same time, Jill said, "You men. You get your pride slapped and you balk like a baby. I didn't pick his side. I picked yours, you blithering idiot. I won't let you go out there and die to prove how tough you are. What happens to me if you die?"

"I don't die that easy, sweetcheeks. You know that. I'm fucking fine. I don't need to be babysat and cooed over. Point, shoot, punch. I can do all three."

"Damnit, Chris. What happens to me if you die?"

"You'll survive it. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met."

A compliment of the highest water. She smiled a little. "You sneaky little shit. You're trying to turn my attention from the issue here. Answer the question."

Frustrated, he huffed and knocked a file off his desk. Yeah, he was mad. He tended to fuck stuff up when he was mad. "It's a stupid question. I'm not dying!"

"No? You're immortal now?"

"Yeah I am. Me and Wesker."

"You fucking men…" She lifted a brow, "Come here."

"What?"

"Come here, now."

She remained the ONLY person on earth he took orders from. It meant something to her that he did. He rose and came around the desk. She braced, waited, and spun a back kick at him. Surprised, he blocked it. She went in again, ducking to throw a powerhouse uppercut at his stomach.

He blocked it and jerked her forward by her arm, throwing her out and away.

"It's like that huh?"

"Prove me wrong and I'll back your play. Come on, you fat bag of pissed off rage, kick my ass."

"Fat?!" He lifted his shirt and showed off that ridiculous stomach of his. He was corrugated muscle from one end to the other. "That's low."

"Lay off the nachos, tubby."

"No nachos here, sweetcheeks."

"Liar. I can smell the cheese in here like bad perfume."

He laughed and braced, curling his hand to beckon her. "Let's do it then, you feisty little thing. Come on."

She rushed him. Speed wasn't his best attribute. He caught her throat as she feinted and picked her up off the ground. She drove a kick into his knee, spun, and dropped her elbow to break his hold. She rolled across his back as she went and jerked his arm up between his shoulders.

He hissed, going stiff from pain. "See?" She said against his ear, "Uncle?"

"Please." He hooked his ankle around hers and jerked. She went backward still holding on. He rolled through it, twisting her arm out and hyperextending it. She had the advantage because he wasn't going to punch her. It limited his abilities.

Instead he jerked that arm, got a shout of surprise from her, and drove an elbow into her back as she bent double. She went down and would have face planted but he looped his other arm around her waist and lifted her, dangling her one armed like a sack of grain.

"Uncle?"

She bit his back.

He yelped, surprised, and dropped her. She fell to her knees and drove her head into his stomach. She grabbed his calves as he staggered and jerked. He hit his back and hissed, jarring his shoulder.

She climbed on top of him and crossed his arms over his chest, pushing her weight down to hold him there.

"You realize I can get out of this right? Although you could also just keep sitting there. But wiggle a little and make it fun."

She lifted a brow and smirked, "You don't need me to wiggle. Getting your ass kicked works like a charm for you, you dirty pervert. I can already tell you're happy I'm sitting here."

He chuckled and shrugged…and winced. "I'm a dude. Sue me."

"You always get wood when you're fighting."

He seemed to think about it. "Probably. Especially fighting hot chics."

"Lecher."

He laughed again.

"Still think you can do this?"

"Yup."

"Yeah?"

"You bet."

She let go of his arms. He grabbed at her hips and rubbed against her a little bit. Jill laughed. "Yep. Lecher. You feeling frisky?"

"Naturally. Lock the door, I'll show you what I can do."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

Jill leaned over him. He grinned, wolfishly. She grabbed his face and he closed his eyes. She rolled her eyes. Men were so easy. Always thinking it was about fucking. She ran her hand over his neck…and slapped his bad shoulder. Hard.

He humped her off him so hard she went up and fell over on her side.

"BITCH!"

He was pale faced as he rolled away, curled against the pain.

"Yeah. You're ready. You go hand to hand with some fucking hunter down there, you'll lose. And you'll die. And if I need carried out again? You can't even do that. You can't even pick me up and hold me to fuck me, you dumb man. You know I don't like to do all the work."

He looked sick to his stomach kneeling there. She felt bad. She did. But he needed the hard dose of truth.

"Stay here. If you die on me down there being a dumb shit, I'll haunt your fucking grave. I love you, you roid rager. Stay here."

"Get back over here and give me a hug. You hurt me."

"No way." Jill laughed and stood. "You're going to hurt me if I do."

"…maybe a spanking. But you'll probably like that."

"Perv." She moved to the office door. "Don't be stupid, Chris. Stop thinking with your dick. That goes double for fighting or fucking. Either can get you killed in the wrong place and time."

"Help me up. You skinny meanie."

"No." Jill chuckled as she opened the door, "You'll just grab my ass again like on the chopper that time."

"I had to shoot the ladder! The nasty monster was going to eat me otherwise."

"Uh-huh. And my ass was all you could find to hold on to?"

"It was the biggest thing in the chopper!"

"Asshole. Kiss ass, Redfield. This ass? FABULOUS."

"I have never heard someone use ass so many times in one sentence. Kudos. And true. Come here and let me grab it again. I'm fixin ta fall over."

Fixin ta. His go to phrase. There was just enough accent when he got going that she knew he'd grown up in the Midwest some place where they said ya'll and fixin ta. Southern Missouri? He'd never really said.

She eyed him a little. She moved to help him up because she wasn't a complete bitch. He didn't even grope her. Jokes or not, Chris was, at the core, a good guy. He knew when to flirt and when to back off.

She wanted to ask about that I love you. All the time she'd known him, there'd never been that edge to the I love you. What had it meant? What did it mean? And could it matter?

She'd flirted around the idea of finding out if he was it for her. All those years ago. But it had never been right, the timing odd, the feeling of losing him broad and painful. So they were so safe with each other. Flirting, god yes, and even knowing when the other needed more but never that…line she'd started walking with Leon Kennedy. That dangerous tightrope just wasn't Chris Redfield's style. She felt like, maybe, if the I love you had been more he would have just said it.

No bullshit.

What would it do if he said it? After all this time, if he just said Jill, I love you, would she drop it all to give him a chance? She helped him to lean on the desk and even went about redressing the wounded shoulder she'd beat the shit out of. Could she love him like that?

He met her eyes as she rubbed the salve gently on his burned flesh. He was so big, she could barely get her arms around him. Too big really for his own good but he'd never listened to her about that. She lifted her eyes and gave him back that studious expression. Could she love him like that?

"What's in that brain of yours, Jilly Bean?"

Jilly Bean. These men and their stupid nicknames. Jilly Bean. Ridiculous. And she loved when he said it.

She was very close to him, he was very shirtless, and they'd just spent ten minutes smacking each other around. It was a weird form of foreplay and one they'd done for years. This was usually when they finished up with a roll on the desk and a couple drinks. Harmless.

Why was now different?

Was it the I love you?

Or was it Leon Kennedy?

She said, "I'm thinking of you, you big bastard. What else?"

"I tend to take over the minds of the ladies, true. It's my witty repartee that does it, honestly."

Jill chuckled and rolled her eyes, "You are, literally, the most boring man on earth on a mission. You think any of the other agents here believe me when I tell them you're funny?"

"I make jokes all the time."

"Not with any other girls you work with. Ever. You're so uptight that Mira told me she figured they could shove a lump of coal up your ass and you'd squeeze out a diamond."

Chris laughed, impressed. He liked Mira. "Nothing wrong with towing the line, Jilly Bean."

"Agreed. It's respectable. Keeps the distance. Doesn't let anyone in. But…" She cupped his cheek and rubbed the stubble there, "Look at you. You're sexy. You're funny. You're clearly a gentleman. You're a catch. Aren't you lonely? You should have someone, Chris. Someone who makes you laugh and loves you a lot and wants to have your babies."

He studied her, quietly, "I got the first part down and the last part? I don't need babies, Jill. Something else for Wesker to take and torture? No."

Oh. Ohhh. So the I love you had been different. Jill realized, maybe too late, he was kinda in love with her. Well…so that's how that happened. It made sense. They got each other. They clicked. They were best friends. There was always going to be that…what if, that floated around them. But it wasn't scary. And it wasn't boggy. He would never make it awkward for her or press it or push her.

Could she love him like that?

The answer, two years ago, would have been yes. If he'd pressed then, pushed then, she would have given him more. She was a coward about feelings like that sometimes. But she would have given it her best shot. She would have opened her heart and let him try for it.

But things had changed.

And the thing that had changed was there wandering around somewhere outside the office.

She said now, "You big fat fool. Why are you always so slow to get there? You could have had me in Raccoon City. Where were you then? I was so into you. You punched that cheating bastard in the face for me. You had me. Damn you."

She leaned over and kissed him. Because she did love him. Because she was kinda sorry it was probably too late for them. Because he was her guy. Always would be. And he'd made her life better, cleaner, funnier and full of love. He'd never let her dwell, never let her break, he picked her up and carried her and dragged her when he couldn't. She'd sat on top of him in Russia and held his guts in his belly after that damn Tyrant had near eviscerated him. He'd gotten in that shower and loved her on the floor of it when that damned Nemesis had nearly killed her. It wasn't the love that made songs, no, but it was the kind that endured, long after the idea of romance had fled, it was the love that built friendships and that lasted a lifetime.

He was her rock. And he'd waited too long to roll toward her. On the back of a jetski, in the middle of a quiet night, Leon Kennedy had zipped right past him and gotten in there. For better or worse, it was what it was.

The thing about Chris Redfield was that he'd never hurt her for it. And he'd never let it linger like a bad smell between them. He'd shrug it off, let it hurt, and put it away. He was just that easy going. They were right for each other.

And maybe he was simply too late.

So, she kissed him. And he was really good at the kissing. Always had been. He didn't push, didn't grope. He waited, like the predator he was. He'd let her kill him or kiss him or fuck him or walk away. Her guy. Yeah. He was her guy.

It was a moment when he was wrong. He should have pushed. He should have groped. He should have taken her. Because by being so simple, so calm, so steady…he'd let her slip right through his fingers.

When she drew back to look at him, his eyes were still closed, and he was so big, so much, so rough and soft and squishie and sweet and stupid. She regretted, just a little, that it was maybe too late for that.

He opened one eye and looked at her. "Keep going. Use tongue."

Jill laughed a little. "Can't do it, you old pervert. Got a mission to get to."

"I'm kinda in charge. So, I can push that off." He patted the desk, "We got three or four minutes before you have to go."

"Geez, Chris, four minutes? How can I say no?"

He chuckled. "You want to tell me who's inside that head? I'd like to say it's me. But we both know it isn't."

She looked for the anger in his face about that. There was none. Her guy, no hard feelings. "It's you. You're always in there. I kinda wish it was all you in there."

"Shit, me too. Give me those four minutes, it will be."

She laughed. "I can't tell you what's in me. Not yet. But I will as soon as I know myself. Hey?"

"Hmm?" He was slipping his shirt on, hissing a little.

"Where was that I love you a few years ago?"

He glanced at her and shrugged a little, "You know me, a little slow to get there sometimes."

"For the record, I would have said yes back then."

He smiled a little and there it was, she realized, there was the regret. But he wouldn't dwell in it. He didn't know how to do that. He'd just absorb it and move on. Chris laughed, a little bitterly, "Yeah. I wasn't ready then."

"Sometimes we just have to figure things happen for a reason."

"Hell yeah they do. Jill, I wouldn't sacrifice this for anything in the world. Including the chance to be your guy."

"I know that. Me either. But you are my guy, always. There is nobody on earth that could change that. You?" She gestured to him and then to her chest. She rubbed it a little and nodded, "Yep. That's where you are."

"Between your boobs? Tease." And he said with no rancor, no pain. He just laughed a little. That was them. It was so good there. She was a fool to not love him that way.

But there was Leon Kennedy.

"I love you, Chris. Tell me you don't know that."

"I know it. I wish it was followed with a hand job sometimes. But I know it."

"You are such a pervert." Jill laughed loudly, "Tell me you'll stay put. Please."

"…I'll stay put. For a hand job."

"Lecher."

Jill left the office laughing.

The fight had done its job. He was staying put. But it was a double edged sword. They both loved a good fight. He wasn't the only one turned on by it. It was coupled with knowing that somewhere in this damn building was Leon Kennedy. And she had that thing in her blood for him that was starting to feel a lot like longing.

Chris was never complicated. She could go back in that office and erase everything with a sweaty ten minute fuck. Part of her wanted to do that. A lot.

But somewhere in this building was Leon Kennedy.

She was a mess.

Jill went back to her room to change into her wet suit and get ready to head out. She was in just her underwear when there was a knock on the door.

"Hold on please." She threw on a shirt and some yoga pants.

She opened the door to see Leon Kennedy standing there. The gods were somewhere laughing at her. Apparently she was in for round two of the emotional baggage show down. It wasn't even 10 a.m.


	4. Fuck the rules; Find your truth

PART FOUR: Fuck the Rules; Find Your Truth  
...

BSAA HQ, 2005  
....

The hair was darker, the build was bigger again. More muscle, less laughter. Where had his laughter gone? She leaned in the door frame, watching him.

"Mr. Kennedy. What brings you to my humble abode?"

"May I come in?"

"I don't know. Last time I let you in, you left without a word."

How could she equate that boy with this man? He was all controlled energy and power. He fairly radiated it. He impressed without trying. He was a stranger standing there. And she longed for him. But she missed the baby faced boy with the sense of humor. Surely he was still in there.

Again, she knew he was younger than her. It didn't matter but it was interesting. A baby in Raccoon City. A baby she'd put her mouth all over. Lord.

"Yeah I did. Let me in, Jill."

What was it with the men in her life trying to get in lately? She should close the door and ignore all of them. Chris deserved to be let in. He'd earned it.

She wasn't sure yet about Leon Kennedy. The want was there, oh yeah, but the rest? He was a study in contradictions. He was in her, somewhere, she just didn't know what it meant yet.

He blew hot, he blew cold. He was full of feelings. He didn't hide them really, not like Chris. He felt it and showed it and let it roll. Leon Kennedy was a rollercoaster of laughter and sex and stifling need. He was in her, somewhere, she just didn't know if she wanted him there.

"Say please."

Oh, she loved the flash of frustration in those icy eyes. Good. Let him be frustrated. She was too. He couldn't think he could just pop in and out of her life and shake it up and walk away without a word. She lifted a brow at him. "Mr. Kennedy, you're not very good at polite conversation. Say please."

And he laughed. He shook his head and laughed. "Christ I've missed you. Let me in."

She'd missed him too. And she leaned on the door again, pursing her lips. "Yeah? How come?"

"Yeah. I like women who are snarky and sexy, it seems."

"Snarky? That's quite a word. You know what else is a word? Please."

He laughed again and executed an adorable little bow to her. "I give up. You win. Please may I come in side?"

"May even? You're so upper crusty. Is it the WASP thing?"

"Probably. It won't let me use bad grammar too often. I do it though, I'm a rebel like that."

Jill laughed a little. He was something. "Yeah you are. The hair is your big rebellion though. How's daddy feel about that hair at Christmas? I bet he can't believe his son won't get a respectable hair cut. I would have thought you'd fall in line and cut it by now."

Leon leaned on the wall across from her room. He crossed his arms over his chest. He stuck one boot against the wall and grinned. "It started out a way to get on his nerves. But now I think it's my best feature. You think I should cut it?"

Surely not. He was all muscle under that stupid shirt. And that face was ridiculous it was so gorgeous. She lifted a brow at him. "Are you kidding? No. Not ever. I want to see how it looks when you're forty or seventy and going gray. Also, proving you are both blind, stupid, and possibly without hope. You make the hair, Mr. Kennedy, not the other way around."

"I thought it was the clothes that made the man."

"The clothes help. What's the shirt today? Hugo Boss?"

"Nah. That's my jacket."

"Spoiled brat."

"Jealous bitch."

She laughed again. There it was. The humor on his face. It took the edge away. It made him touchable. It made her hungry for him.

Which, of course, was why he needed to go away.

"I don't think today is the day you get to come inside."

Stupid thing to say. Stupid. She'd walked right into it. Chris would have turned it funny. She just KNEW Leon Kennedy would make it hot.

"Let me inside and we'll both come."

Bingo.

Jill lifted her brows and grinned. "That was very dirty, Agent Kennedy. And not at all in line with the mission protocol."

"Fuck it. I don't always follow the mission protocol."

"I heard that. You're a bit of a loose cannon that way."

"You prefer guys who follow the rules right? Like Redfield. Mr. Protocol. Doesn't play outside the rules. You know who follows rules all the time? Guys with no balls."

What was in that tone? Oh, it felt like power to hear it. What was that? Jealousy? "Really? I heard those guys were the ones who sneak out of bed with a girl in the middle of night without saying goodbye."

"…ouch." But he was grinning.

"Yeah. The great hammer of god, scared of his own feelings. How embarrassing for you."

"Nice sidestep on the Redfield issue."

"You're jealous of him. It makes you mean. I don't play into silly boy drama."

"Jealous? Of what? I can jab myself full of roids too. But I like having a big dick."

"Do you? I cant seem to remember, "Jill laughed again, leaning in the doorway. "You think he doesn't have one too?"

"Ouch." He thought she was fabulous. She gave shit like a man and looked like a goddess. What a creature. Leon lifted a brow. "You saying he does?"

"I don't kiss and tell, Mr. Kennedy. Which is good for you, considering what I know."

Ah. That got him. And there was that flash of memory on his face. Oh yeah, she thought, he was hot for it. She'd been reading men all her life. He was jealous, true, but it was good. It made her feel good. She liked him jealous. "You don't kiss at all, Jill Valentine. Which is killing me."

"I kiss lots of people. The ones who stick around to say good morning. Chris says good morning all the time, by the way."

His smile was wolfish. "I bet he does. It's probably up tight and boring too, like he is. Let me in. I'll say good morning to you in ten different languages. And I'll do it naked on top of you."

Little prick. She was impressed with the arrogance. She laughed a little bit.

"Go back to your room, hotshot. You're playing with fire here."

"I tend to do that. Tell me you don't want me to and I'll go back to my room."

"What do you think is going to happen here, Leon? I'm not some simpering girl looking for your attention. There's plenty all over the place here. Go find one of them to flirt with."

"Can't do it. And you don't want me to anyway. Quit pretending. Let me in."

Arrogant bastard. She leaned back on the door, amused. "You aren't as charming as you think you are, sir. I promise you."

"Yeah?" He pushed away from the wall and moved toward her. "Prove it. And let me in."

"Give me one good reason why."

"Because my heads so full of you I can't even focus on anything else. Tell me you don't know that."

Oh…goodness. It was a good answer.

He was close now and smelled amazing. Something expensive and yummy. Yummy, Mira had said, she was right. Yummy.

"What happens when you come in?"

He was a few feet away now and moving closer, "I don't know. Let's find out."

Neither of them noticed the two girls standing down the hallway, peeking around to watch them. They couldn't possibly know how the gossip mill would start turning later. It would have been ok. It really would have. But he closed the last few feet and was right in front of her.

He bracketed his arms on either side of the door frame while she leaned on the door. Any girl on earth could see what was happening there. He was very close to her now. She grappled at the handle to the door and kept her hands locked there, keeping her arms behind her back. She wouldn't touch him. It wouldn't help anything if she did.

"I don't think you should come in." And her voice squeaked a little, delighting him and embarrassing her a little bit. He leaned down enough to scent her. She felt the brush of his nose on her nose. Good lord.

He was so very close. "Why not?"

"We're on duty."

He glanced at her mouth and kept his eyes there, "Yeah. Story of my life."

"Flirting distracts from the mission, Mr. Kennedy."

"Don't care. I want to touch you. Let me in, Jill. Please."

She studied him. There was something written on his face again that moved her. She said, softly, "They call you Mr. Death because you rain it around you everywhere you go."

"They call you The Immortal because you never die."

"They say you killed Curtis Miller with your bare hands in a fist fight."

"They say you fought off a hundred mutants without a single weapon."

"They said you're sleeping with Claire."

"They said you're having Chris' baby."

"They lie."

"Yeah they do."

She leaned back and kept the door in her hand. The girls at the end of the hallway kept peeking around. A guy started to walk passed and they stopped him, shaking their heads. He peeked as well and lifted his brows, bobbling them.

One whispered, "I think the executioner is in love with Jill Valentine."

The other girl giggled, "He's so cute. I heard he never touches girls though."

The guy peeked around the corner, "I think he's going to be touching one in a minute."

One of the girls said, "If she sends him away, I'm going after him."

The other girl giggled, "He'll turn you down. Look at how he's looking at her. You ever seen a guy look at you like that before?"

"No," The first girl sighed, "But I've never been looked at by Leon Kennedy."

The boy rolled his eyes, "You women. What's the deal with him? He has girl hair. And he's skinny."

The second girl giggled again, "It's just men that hate the hair. Seriously. It's like…rock star hot. He flirts and flirts. Is there a girl alive that isn't in love with him? He's untouchable. We love it."

The boy said, "Pretty sure she's about to touch him."

The first girl said, "Lucky bitch."

In the doorway, Jill tilted her head, looking at him. "Damnit. Now you've been out here too long. Someone is going to see you. What do you want, Leon?"

"I want to come inside…" He was so close. Soooo close. She thought, desperately, don't finish the statement. Don't. But he did, thrilling them both with the whisper of it, "…you."

Her mind said: MISTAKE. Her body said, "Fuck…don't."

He said, an inch from her mouth, "So stop me."

He came through the door. She let him in. He scooped her off her feet, held her to his front with one arm around her, and she held on as he carried her back, kicking the door closed behind them. He pressed her against the wall.

At the end of the hallway, the boy said, "Get it dude! That's the first time I respected the guy. That's how you get the girl man. I'd give a ball to be in that room with her right now."

And the girls giggled...just in time for Barry Burton to come around the corner. Naturally, the gossip mill had just started to churn.

Leon said, pinning her there against the wall, "I want to kiss you."

She answered, whispering, "Not today, Mr. Kennedy."

He groaned and put his face against her neck. She slid her fingers into his hair held him. "Are you falling in love with me, Leon Kennedy? We talked about this."

And he laughed against her neck. "I left that morning."

It was muffled against her skin. She nodded, holding on, "You did."

"I should tell you why."

"No. You don't owe me answers, Leon. Seriously."

He nipped at her neck and brought her breath in a sigh. "I'm a mess, Jill. No lie. I have so many issues I should be a poster child for abstinence."

She laughed a little and he leaned back to look into her face. Claire had put her hands on him in Harvardville. She'd opened some damn door there that he'd shut after he'd seen Jill last. He'd run away to lick his wounds and think about his life. There'd been something there between them, no lie. But what could he offer her?

What could he offer her now? Claire had been quick to backpedal and put that little experiment to bed. But it left him confused. All these women in his life…what did they want from him? Only Jill, here and now, seemed to expect nothing from him.

Was it why he'd craved her for so long? All of his sweaty, torturing, amorous dreams about her. He'd probably fucked her in his head a thousand times since that night. He'd played with her body like his guitar, strumming her until she sang for him. She had replaced Ada in his mind as his go to filthy wet dream.

Could he be around her and not put his hands on her? She rebuked him, refused him, flirted with him and climbed in the shower. She was a playful little thing that pushed all his buttons. Clever and fun and vivacious. He enjoyed her probably more than anyone he'd ever met. She was so gorgeous she hurt his head looking at her. She acted like a man in one hand. She flirted without being stupid about it, dirty words and honest feelings. He dug it. Straight up dug it.

He hated Chris Redfield. Hated him. Because he knew there was something there with them. And he hated it. He was sorta hoping the other man would pick a fight about it. He couldn't get her out of his head.

And her body was his constant wet dream. He should focus on the mission, yep, but he had to touch her first. Had to. Or he'd go down into the mission hard as a rock and lose his way. He'd toss her against the wall of whatever shit hole they emerged in and drill her through her wet suit.

Testing them both, he slipped his hand under her shirt. She was braless. And obviously the gods were testing his soul. He nearly died on the spot. His hands bracketed her ribcage and brushed at the undersides of those breasts. She made some sound and leaned into him. Leon groaned a little and dropped his forehead against hers. His hand came up and cupped one, soft and heavy. He could feel her heart hammering through her breast. His echoed it, thundering in his blood.

They both held on for a long moment. Kiss me, she thought, now is when you kiss me.

"You couldn't have worn a bra? Geezus."

Jill laughed a little, breathily, "I was changing when you knocked. I just threw on the shirt."

"You're killing me here."

"What a way to die."

"No shit. I should go get ready for this mission right? That's what I should do."

"You should, yep. You really should." She drew his earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it. He made some sound of hunger and filled both of his hands with her breasts. Clearly this was NOT prepping for the mission. It was prepping for something. But it had nothing to do with storming the objective.

"What do you want to do now, Mr. Kennedy? They're probably waiting for us." Her voice was hoarse with need. Kiss me, she thought, you big idiot.

He didn't. But he didn't stop either. He palmed her breasts and played with her, bringing sounds from her mouth that were sort of inhuman with hunger. His mouth settled on her neck and suckled.

She tried to find something under his shirt to touch. But it was snug and tight and tucked into his pants. She finally found the end of it and lifted it to touch his back. The shoulder holster stopped her from touching too much. She gasped out a sound of denied longing.

Tired of playing, he put his teeth on her through her shirt. He sucked her breast into his mouth through the fabric and nearly killed her. She gasped and grabbed at his face to hold on. There was that nearly unstoppable hunger in him for her that made her feel like she was on fire.

He jerked her shirt up and put his mouth on her. She stumbled a little back and ended up sitting on the edge of her desk. Her hand knocked off her notebook and a series of pens. They tumbled to the floor in a clatter of sound. She grabbed the edge of the desk and held on. He didn't stop, couldn't. He just kept feasting on her.

The shirt tumbled back to settle on the crown of his head. Her hands gripped him, holding on. He was a boob guy, clearly. And she had plenty for him. They were heavy and full and sensitive. He lavished them with tongue and teeth and torture until she was pretty sure she'd die from it. He put his face in them, on them, and left them rosy and covered in delicate teeth marks. They were tender from the attention in a way she hadn't ever experienced. He palmed her, rolled her, played with her like he was learning her sounds and her skin. He tasted her through the shirt, under the shirt, watched her face while he plucked at her. It was like he was studying her reactions to see what she liked. It was ungodly hot.

Leon looped his arm around her and pulled her off the desk. He tossed her on the bed and came down atop her while she was still mid bounce. She made some desperate sound again with a laugh and put her hands on him. She couldn't get the shirt off with the shoulder holster in the way but she gave it her best shot. She put her nails on his back and jerked, watching him.

Oh yeah, she thought, there it was. The brief flash of pain fired through him like it did for her. That was it. That was the connection. They both liked a little teeth and nails. She jerked at his holster and pushed it off his shoulders. The gun settled onto the bed beside them. She lifted her hands under that shirt and raked those nails over his chest.

He grunted and thrust his body against her, bouncing the bed beneath her with the force of it. That was his trigger, she thought as the blood pushed into her groin and made her heavy with need. The executioner liked for her to hurt him a little. She was on fire for him. She wanted to know what he tasted like. She'd had enough playing. She wiggled out of her shirt and jerked at his, pulling it up and off him.

He dropped his upper body to press against her and that tantalizing naked contact made them both react. Her hands roamed up his back and pulled him closer, crushing her breasts against him. She loved that look on his face. It was wonder and want and an almost soft sense of something else.

She rolled him under her and rose above him. She rubbed herself over his body and thrilled them both with it. He filled his hands with her breasts and watched her face. He figured out quickly what she liked and gave it to her, bringing her breath in heavy and hungry pants. She cruised her hands over his chest and mirrored it, almost petting him. She leaned down and wanted, wanted, wanted to kiss him. Instead she turned her face and bit down his neck, bringing the goosebumps to his skin that delighted her. She angled down his chest, licking at his nipples and watching him to see how he liked it. He loved it and the teeth she set against him next. She wanted to taste him. She'd waited long enough to know the taste of him. She wanted to die feasting on him.

Jill put her mouth on his stomach, sinking her teeth in hard enough to bring his mouth open in a hoarse sound of greed. She whipped the tongue of his belt free from his pants and jerked at his zipper. What was fascinating was that his hands moved as if to stop her. They caught at her face and held her. She met his eyes and set her teeth against him through the denim.

He made some kind of desperate sound and let go of her face. She rolled her face and kissed his palm, kissing one of those scratchy tactical gloves.

There was something dirty to the idea of putting her mouth on the right hand of the president. The guy who'd sat stoically, impassively, in that conference room and rolled a paper weight in his gloved hand while he waited patiently to be given his assignment. The guy who was so good they only sent him and him alone to do the job. The guy who turned down any girl that tossed herself at him…save for her. Jesus he was perfect. She bit again at that perfect washboard stomach. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Where was his flaw? She licked over the fine scatter of scars on him. Still perfect…even when they were imperfect. The scars said survivor.

She cupped his face and looked at him. What was that look in those eyes? He'd been so confident when he'd come inside her room. Why was he so nervous now? She found it adorable and just like him. He was a complex creature.

She lowered her mouth to lick at him. She bit at his collarbone and tasted the saltiness of his skin. She rubbed her nose in the fine sprinkly hair on his chest. He tasted like something she'd probably die addicted to.

He cupped her face and watched that pink mouth lick and roll across him. Lord, was there any other guy in the universe in as much as hell as him right now? He had never wanted anything more than what was licking across his stomach. She was sin and sex and speed. She literally made his heart race.

This was probably the right time to tell her about this kind of thing. She put her mouth on him through his briefs and he was pretty sure he couldn't make three words string together. It would likely be gibberish if he tried. She sucked him through the fabric and his eyes crossed. He said something but it wasn't English. He wasn't sure it was actually a legitimate language.

Jill laughed, enraptured with him. The Executioner was adorable. He looked like he might pass out or die there beneath her. He really was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

Apparently with a mouth near his dick, he tried to talk Klingon or something. He could have said no, should have told her all about his lack of experience in this department, but she pulled the length of him free and he couldn't remember what the hell he'd been about to say anyway.

Jill settled herself over him and licked him. His hands scrambled, grabbed the pillow behind his head, and held fast. She licked him again, almost teasing. Leon made some sound in this throat. She rolled her eyes up his body and smiled, sweetly. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest at the look of him there. He looked terrified and thrilled and desperate. And gorgeous. That face…it would haunt her forever. She could look at him until she went blind.

She licked him, watching him bow, watching him gasp. She watched the muscles in his arms bunch in that pillow. God, she craved him. She licked at the salty spill of him and figured it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. She wanted the whole thing. She watched his face while she took the whole length of him into her mouth.

He was pretty sure he was dead. Nobody anywhere could feel this fire in their belly, blood, and balls and not drop dead from it. He shouted or cursed or something and jerked his hips toward her. She didn't bother to stop, she just bobbed up and down on him like a relentless, talented, torturous goddess of sex and sucking dick. She feasted like she'd finish him off and take it with her when she was done.

He'd probably let her. As long as she didn't stop.

She had settled herself between his legs and cupped him under his ass around the hips to milk him with that mouth. She went to town, diving and driving that amorous mouth over the pulse of his aching need with an endless hunger. His hands shifted and caught in her hair, twisting sort of desperately. He tried to pull her back, to let her know he was too close, she was pushing too fast. He gasped out her name and thrilled her, thrilled her. She knew he was close. She didn't stop, she moved faster, hungry for him in ways she couldn't even begin to understand. The orgasm built in his body like a tidal wave. It smashed into his guts and robbed his brain of thought. He, gasped out, a little desperately, "Wait..wait.."

Go, she thought, go go go. And she felt him bow, jerk, and give up.

He didn't pull her off, he held her down on him. He didn't mean to. He wasn't trying to force her but he jerked and shot into her mouth, almost ridiculously fast and hard. He'd made some sound of surrender and couldn't stop it from ripping out of his body like a feral beast. She didn't resist, she absorbed, holding him almost gently to her mouth until he shuddered, shivered, and relaxed. She rolled the softening length of him in her mouth and tortured them both. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier than the sight of her there rolling the taste of him around in her mouth.

Where had she been all his life?

She released him from her mouth with a wet pop of sound. She didn't leave him a drop of himself to linger there. She tucked him back in and zipped him up. He dragged her up to him by the hair. He crushed their bodies together and grabbed her ass to grind her against his body. She made some sound of eager expectation.

He whispered, "I want to be inside you."

She laughed, breathily, "Not today, Mr. Kennedy."

"When?"

"You'll know when."

Jill moved away and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. He rolled her beneath him and pinned her arms over her head. They stared at each other from inches away. He said, "I want to put my mouth on you."

She shivered, delighted, "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Do you taste like raspberries and cream? I bet you do."

He was pretty good with the dirty talk. His legendary sarcasm and humor didn't say anything about dirty talk. He was eloquent with it even while he was dirty.

She leaned up and whispered, "I taste better."

"I believe that."

"Try me and see."

Leon shifted and jerked at her pants. He put his mouth to her belly, to the top of her pubic bone. She gasped, laughed softly, and speared her hands into his hair. He lowered her pants a little more and kissed her there over her panties. The laughter was lost in anticipation.

She seemed eager to let him play with her body. She wouldn't care about his ineptitude. He'd play it off and watch her body for signs. She was all signs and signals. He loved it.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to fall in love with her. He licked at her over her panties and watched her gasp, keeping her eyes on him. She leaned up on her elbows to watch him. Jesus. He held her eyes and set his teeth against her, lightly, through her damp panties. Her eyes blurred but held on.

He snaked his tongue around the edge of her panties to taste her. Just a flicker. Just a lick. Better, she'd said. She was right. She was better.

He watched her watch him taste her.

She trembled, gasping, "...Jesus."

It was definitely a holy moment. His breath hitched when he whispered, "I want to be inside you, Jill" How? Tongue? Fingers? Dick? All of it. Any of it. Forever. He couldn't imagine ever wanting to leave. They'd probably die wrapped together.

What a way to go.

She didn't care anymore...she just nodded, and sorta stole his soul with it.

He tugged down her yoga pants and she kicked her feet, helping him. Those racehorse legs of her were slim and perfect. They were strong and sleek. The pants lodged at her ankles and clung. But they didn't matter anymore. He set his teeth against her damp panties and bit her, gentle, slow.

Jill grabbed his face and made a sound like a keen, shaking like a leaf. She was going to make this easy for him. He was going to watch her fall apart and bury himself in her.

He wanted to fuck her. It was that simple. But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Because he wanted to watch her face while they fucked. He wanted to hold her afterward.

He wanted to make love to her - and the idea scared the shit out of him. His palm pressed over panties, rubbing until they were soaked with her eager juices. She purred, or something, she took his face to bring him up.

She kissed his mouth, face flushed, eyes closed. His stayed open, watching her. He murmured, "You want me to kiss you?"

And she gasped, "I want you inside me...everywhere."

Jesus.

He slid his hand up to push her panties to the side. Hers shifted to grip his wrists. He stroked his thumbs down the slick line of her cunt and licked her mouth. She opened for him - legs, lips, heart.

One of his hands peeled her panties to the side. She humped her hips toward him, eager and ready.

He grabbed for his belt and his zipper. Now or never. Now or ne-

Her communicator beeped loudly on the dresser. "ETD fifteen minutes. Please report to promenade deck three."

His flushed face raised to hers. She said, hoarsely, "I think we're on duty."

Leon laughed a little. He ground his head against her excited body and made her moan. She was right behind him. Frustrated, she watched him pull up her pants. He said, "Story of my life."

He rolled to his feet. She did the same.

"So, we'll finish this when we get back then."

"Count on it."

She slipped on her t-shirt. He did the same, strapping on his holster. She hated each piece of clothing that came between them. He hated his job. Right this minute, he hated his fucking job.

He opened the door to the room and she followed him into the hallway. He glanced up and down the hallway and moved back to her. She knew she shouldn't, it was risky, anyone could see them. But he she let him press her against the wall and press his forehead to hers. She let him.

Because she couldn't, not let him. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrists and hold. She said, softly, "Mr. Kennedy, I think you might be trying to make me long for you."

"How's that workin?"

"It's working.'

His communicator beeped again and he drew back, sighing a little. "Fucking job."

She laughed, delighted. "We chose it right?"

He glanced down at the press of her breasts beneath that little t-shirt. "I'm going to have to stare at you in a wet suit for the next eighteen hours or so. I'm not sure if this is the best or the worst job on earth at the moment."

Jill shrugged, "It's all how you choose to see it."

"This is true."

He put his hand on her through that t-shirt. She moaned a little and leaned into him. He turned his head to kiss her. Yeah, she thought, now works. She angled her mouth to his. He was a breath away from her and his communicator beeped again, He cursed with frustration, "I'm fucking coming. Jesus."

"I wish I was coming too."

And now he laughed, frustrated and let go of her breast. He ground his forehead against her chest, thrilling her with his frustration. "Ditto. Ms. Valentine."

"Mr. Kennedy."

He punched the wall beside her head, lightly. And kissed her, hard, just once on the mouth.

She made a little moan and tried to hold on to him. He grabbed her and tilted her face up to him.

She said, "Kiss me. Now. Kiss now."

"Now? In the hallway?"

"Yeah. Now. In the hallway. Please."

"Please? Please. Yeah now. Now is good." They both laughed a little in frustration. His thumb stroked the soft skin where he neck and chin met. He shifted, shifted again, and tried to find the right angle to kiss her. It was charming.

She licked his mouth. He moved to push his mouth on hers and was brought up short.

The communicator beeped once more.

With a filthy curse, he pulled away from her with another punch on the wall. "God damn job."

She whispered, "God damn job."

He laughed. She laughed. He flattened his hands on the wall beside her head and touched his forehead to hers. She grabbed at his shirt and fisted her hands there.

Another beep.

He slapped the wall on either side of her head and pushed off, cursing again. "Let's get this shit over with."

She laughed a little, "Yes. Please."

He moved down the hallway and away. She pressed a hand to the base of her throat. What was he doing to her? She wasn't sure but she knew she didn't want it to stop. She watched his ass until he turned the corner in the hallway.

And then she let out a shaky, desperate, sort of delighted laugh.


	5. The Unicorn Conundrum

PART FIVE: The Unicorn Conundrum

BSAA HQ, 2005  
.........

Leon Kennedy, they said, was "practically a genius." There was no practically about it, he had the test scores to prove that his noodle was top notch.

Sadly, it was currently being controlled by the noddle in his pants. He couldn't stop thinking about Jill Valentine to pay attention to the damn mission he was supposed to be.

So much for that hard won "stoicism" that he was rapidly becoming known for.

Joel was talking to him. He was explaining about the gear he was wearing. He and Quint were the "Q" part of the James Bond thing happening at the BSAA. He was showing the little packs and the weird little pulse grenades inside.

Joel was kinda nerdy dork meets upper crust band nerd. Leon respected it. He came from those kind of roots himself. The kid was young…maybe late teens? Clearly a genius, he'd been recruited to work along side some of the best minds in the business. Joel was poking around in places he shouldn't have been but it was so terribly thoughtless, like a master painter with a naked subject. There was nothing awkward for him about it. He was fitting the other man with a communicator.

One of the little tech girls was standing there biting on her lip. He figured being half naked surrounded by women would usually get a man excited. But he wasn't looking at any of them. Across the room, in her bra, being fitted for her communicator, was the only girl he was watching.

She was laughing at something one of them said. She was about to spill out of that damn bra. He wanted to leap down off the little platform he was standing on and pick her up. What tongues would wag then? The great executioner picking up the immortal and throwing her on her back on the conference table so he could fill her out like an application. Jesus, they'd never live it down.

The little tech girl finally fitted him for the wet suit. He smiled at her, a little amused, a little bit with sympathy. She literally looked like she wanted to giggle and fall over and keep touching him. She was uber polite, only measuring and writing things down in her book. But it was very sweet and very flattering. And utterly humbling.

What was with these girls? He glanced at himself in standing mirror. The effort to maintain his body was mostly related to the job. He was vain enough to want to look good, true, which likely stemmed from the old band nerd inside of him but the rigorous diet and the careful maintenance of his physique was mostly done just to stay ahead of the bad guys. When you fought things that had super human strength, you had to do whatever you could to equal the playing field.

Objectively, he had the Kennedy good looks. His face was a mixture of good genes and strong, boring, loveless marriages between people that looked good, had lots of money, and made similar offspring. He wasn't any more handsome though, honestly, then the next guy. It was curious why girls weren't falling over themselves for Redfield.

He moved amongst the room mostly untouched. Maybe girls looked, true, but he gave off this...vibe. It said: Don't Bother. And so girls didn't flirt. Was it Jill he was saving himself for? He studied them as he stopped to talk to her.

He bobbled his brows at her in the bra. She laughed and rolled her eyes. Nah. There was intensity there but it didn't..wasn't…shit. It wasn't like what they'd had an hour before. Right?

She turned her head and saw him looking. And there it was. There was that…thing. That intensity. It twisted around his guts and held on. He was so into her it was kinda embarrassing. Boombox under the window? He was almost there.

He lifted one corner of his mouth and she winked.

Joel said, "Ok?"

A little embarrassed that he had COMPLETELY just missed out on whatever instructions he'd been given. He nodded, "Yep."

"Good. That makes it easier. Just keep the battery charged." Joel moved over to a table. "Ok. Do you want a warmer for the groin of your suit?"

Leon blinked at him. "Do I?"

The little tech girl giggled. Leon winked at her. Joel said, "You do. Imagine being in the freezing water with your balls hanging out. They'd fall off."

Leon, sipping a bottle of water, choked a little. "..that's more frightening then whatever else could possibly be lurking under there."

"Seriously," Joel nodded, "So that's a yes on the groin warmer."

"A very clear yes."

Quint, a rather abrupt looking fellow with a harsh laugh, and a very direct sense of humor. Came wandering over. "So that's what Mira meant."

Leon lifted a brow at him.

"She said your body was redonkulous. I had to see what that word even meant."

Leon chuckled a little and shrugged. "Girls like six packs. Doesn't have to be your stomach if you show up with the other kind though."

"That's fuckin' true dude. I've been trying to nail, Mira, forever. She ain't interested. I was cursed with all the brains and none of the looks man, ya know? It's an uphill battle with the babes."

Leon nodded, amused, "Maybe you should try not using the phrase "nail." Just a suggestion, but women usually don't like being objectified."

"Yeah? I thought they loved knowing they were bitchin hot."

"Yeah. But maybe not so…crass?"

"Crass? Am I crass?"

Joel nodded, "You are. And rude. Girls hate you. You're crude and disrespectful."

Quint chuckled, amused, "Dude. At least Dr. Goodlove over here was nice about it."

Joel shrugged, "Sorry. I lack a filter."

Quint rolled his eyes and turned back to Leon. "So what? You like never eat meat or something? What's it take to look like that?" He lifted up his shirt over his concave belly. He was skin and bones. "You think I can lay off the nachos and beer and look like that?"

From across the room, Chris said, "You could eat protein and do a thousand sit ups a day, Jackass, and you'd never look like that."

"Look who's talking? The guy who was a schoolbus with muscles. Let's see what nachos look like, you fat bastard."

Chris chuckled and shrugged. He lifted his shirt. Fat. Right. Somewhere under all that sheer muscle. Jill said, "Put the shirt down, Red, before you make us all go blind."

Chris laughed. "Eat nachos, drink beer, and kick your own ass. That's how you look like that."

Amused, Quint said, "Can one you girls explain the Kennedy situation to me "

Mira said, from station B where she was getting their guns ready, "For him to look like that is part good genes, part sheer torture. He was put here to make us want him. But we can't have him. It's the perpetual unicorn conundrum."

Amused, Leon replied, "What's the unicorn conundrum?"

Chris rolled his eyes, "Here we go. Prepare for an education in the complex, fertile, and OVERLY active female mind."

Mira laughed a little, "The unicorn conundrum is the institution of the perfect male. For instance, take Redfield over there. He's clearly a catch right? He's handsome, built, respectful, and makes a good living. If he's a little lacking in the charm department, that's all secondary. He's ALMOST a unicorn. Almost perfect."

Leon shifted as the tech girl wound the measuring tape around his stomach. She giggled a little. He shook his head, laughing. These women. Really.

"Ok. Keep going."

"Then there's you. And you're it. You're the unicorn. You're Redfield with charm, money, and sophistication. And you're not interested. Not even a little bit. You flirt, you flash that fucking body of yours, you wink and flip that mane…and you trot off to your mystical cave again. No one gets a ride. Everyone wants one. Boom. Unicorn conundrum. Who's good enough to get a ride? Maybe nobody. And so everybody wants you. TBD on if any girl out there is good enough."

Leon considered this as the girl measured his legs and giggled again. "You make me sound like a tease."

"Ah," Mira chuckled, "But you kinda are. You offer it. You get us sniffing. You wink. But you ain't interested. So you politely blow us off. We leave giggling and smiling. And we don't even realize you just shot us down. Let me demonstrate…"

She walked over to Chris and said, "How about we go back to my room I rock your world, big guy?"

Chris laughed, checking a clip to be sure it was loaded, "Thanks but no. Let's just focus on the mission here."

"See? No charm. He just flat out blows you off."

She turned back to Leon Kennedy. Lord, she thought, was there anything more yummy? His arms were lifted above his head while Frannie was measuring him. She never took this long to measure.

"You on the other hand, I hit on immediately as you came off that chopper."

Gertie snorted where she was working with Jill. Amused, Jill was watching him. Leon smiled a little and shrugged.

"I take it you're used to girls hitting on you."

"It's come up a time or two."

"I'm sure," Mira said, tongue in cheek, "So I hit on this guy. I mean, I'm bringgin my A-Game. I lay it on thick. I pretty much offered him the ability to eat breakfast off my ass."

Quint looked excited by the idea. Mira rolled her eyes at him. "So Kennedy over here, does he Chris Redfield me? Politely decline? Hell no. He makes me sweat under my fabulous tits by just looking at me. He seems to consider it, tongue in cheek and all. And he regretfully declines because it would distract him from the job. He makes it seem like he'd have done it, oh yeah, if he wasn't working. I come away feeling like he just might want me back."

She studied him, intrigued, "You want me back, hot stuff?"

Leon chuckled a little. "I don't know if I'm clever enough for you. Pretty sure you can do better."

"See? He defers you. He doesn't overtly decline. He just defers. He changes your tune. You don't even realized you've been played. He said something about my eyes and had me, "She snapped her fingers, "Like that. Bam. Unicorn conundrum."

Jill was watching him. The unicorn conundrum. It fit. And Chris said, "Well…that should be his call sign."

Mira laughed, loudly, "Oh it sooooo should."

Quint brayed, "You want to call the Executioner, Unicorn?"

Mira said, "Oh yeah. But watch this, THIS is why he's the unicorn after all. You ok with that name, hot stuff?"

Leon shrugged, amused, "Whatever works. I've been call a helluva worse things."

Jill replied, cheekily, "I can't call him Unicorn. I just can't. I'll laugh. All the bad guys will get me because I'm laughing."

Joel was putting something in her bra, causing her to lift her brows. It was well known that Joel was tactless. The side door of the room opened and in walked Rebecca Chambers.

She was a pretty little thing, delightfully young, killer smart. She had a pixie cut on a perfect elfin face. She glanced at Jill and stuck a hand on her hip. "Why is the universe so unfair? You look like a Playboy centerfold…I look like a ten year old boy."

Jill chuckled, "You'll still look like that at seventy. I'll be dragging my tits off the floor and throwing them over my shoulders."

Chris paused, blinked, and laughed loudly. "What a fucking image."

Quint said, "That image is definitely NOT about fucking, dude. Horrifying."

Rebecca turned grabbed a communicator off the table and moved toward the door. She slipped out the door without a backward glance. Mira let out a laugh.

"And then there's Chambers. The only girl on earth NOT interested in Leon Kennedy."

From the loft above, working on packing their gear, Gertie shouted down, "She's blind about dudes. Too focused on viruses."

Quint said, curious, "Mira…what's it take for a dude like me…to get a girl like you?"

Mira replied, grinning, "The zombie apocalypse."

Jill laughed while Frannie measured her waist. Frannie asked, thoughtfully, "How do you get the six pack? I work out all the time. Still nothing. Flat."

Jill smiled a little. Frannie was the cutest thing on earth with those glasses and those little green eyes. She said, "A shit ton of varying muscle targeting work outs. And yoga."

Chris snorted, "Yoga. What a girlie thing to do. Standing on your head with one leg stuck out. Men hit the heavy bag, dollface. We don't play Gumby."

Quint chuckled, "I'd do Yoga with you, Jill. You in front. Do downward dog on the mat in front of me."

Jill rolled her eyes, "You are such a perv, Jackass. Seriously."

"What? I'd pay to see that. I don't even care if you fart while doing it."

Chris grabbed the edge of the table where he was loading clips. He snorted out a laugh. "Quint, you are fucking classy. No lie."

Jill was too amused to be offended. This is what life looked like working with me. A series of offhanded dirty remarks and humor. She wouldn't do anything else.

Mira remarked, "And he wonders why I won't let him take me out?"

Quint said, "What?! I thought girls like no bullshit."

Mira replied, "Chris is no bullshit. You're just…shit. In general."

"What's a guy to do? I don't look like him," He gestured to Leon, "I don't talk like him. You sayin I gotta be him to get a chance?"

Mira snorted, "If you looked like him, you still would be you. You still wouldn't have a shot in hell."

"Damn. Some dudes have all the luck." He said it without any ire. He was such a joker.

Leon said, "I do yoga."

And Mira laughed, loudly. "See?! UNICORN."

Jill lifted a brow at him. "Prove it."

Chris nodded his ascent, "Seriously. Prove it."

Leon shrugged and rolled easily into scorpion pose. It was basically like putting your body into a backwards C. He touched his feet to his own head. He balanced on his arms. He rolled into a handstand and did a one handed push up from that position. The move transitioned into a cartwheel seamlessly and ended in warrior pose.

Chris lifted his brow. "That was totally girly."

Quint was chuckling, "Girly for sure, dude."

Quint looked at the girls for confirmation. None of them looked at ALL like they thought it was girly. They looked kinda starstruck.

Jill moved in her bra to align their backs as she went into warrior pose behind him. He rolled down without being prompted and moved to his back on the floor. He stuck his legs up and she curled back on him into scorpion pose. He lifted her off the floor and held her there.

Mira blinked. "This is what I should be doing on Friday nights."

Gertie said, "I should be doing this EVERY night."

They moved flawlessly. He lifted his arms and caught her hands. She pushed into a handstand and he held there, suspended over the floor. She rolled forward into downward dog and he echoed her. They managed to somehow bend their gumby bodies to touch feet, curling spines backward effortlessly.

Quint said, "Are they made of rubber?"

Chris laughed a little. "I fail to see how this helps fight zombies."

Leon rolled to his feet. He moved like water, like something predatory. He gripped the pistol on the table, spun it in his hand, and offered it butt first to the other man.

Chris lifted a brow at him.

"They say you're a crack shot right?"

Chris took the gun.

"So shoot me."

Mira hooted.

Chris lifted both brows now, "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

They ended up shifting to a paintball gun of course. But the idea was the same. Chris and Quint both enjoyed the hell out of it. They fired off paintballs to the laughter of the rest of the room. He ducked, rolled, and moved like a wavy tube man. He wasn't just fast, he was ridiculous. Jill understood now what they said about poetry in motion. He was a second ahead, a moment faster, a split thought better. His body shifted, dipped, flipped and went flat.

They simply could not hit him.

Jill tapped her bare foot on the bleacher in front of her. They'd moved into the gym for the challenge. She watched him back hand spring, drop into one pose after another and just…move. He didn't just move, he made it art.

When the gym looked like a splatter paint party gone wrong, he rolled once to across the mat, and rose…flawless. He gestured to Chris who was man enough to shake his hand. "Not zombies. But I'm not always against zombies. And you can't always stop the bullets by being bigger than a brick shit house."

"Fair enough."

They adjourned to the prep area to finish getting ready.

Jill watched him now, curious about all the complexities under his surface. He was, without a doubt, the most fascinating creature in the world. He was all feelings and finely honed skill. He was such an enigma. It intrigued even as it inspired.

Jill help Chris load the weapons. She handled a pistol like she knew how to use it. She moved with purpose and poise. Leon watched her, curious about what kind of fighter she was. Claire was the type to fight if she had to. Jill was like him…or Chris. She was bred to fight.

Leon leapt down from the platform where they were getting his vital signs read and taken. Mira watched him move. He even walked like he was dancing. He was all smooth and perfect. She chuckled. She wondered what it took to get under his skin.

Jill glanced up as he moved over. She offered him a clip to reload. He took it, happily. He snapped bullets like it was nothing. They reached for rounds at the same time. Their fingers brushed.

A few of the rounds rolled off the table. She bent to pick them up…and ended up looking up the line of his body at him. He knelt to help her.

Mira lifted a brow, considering.

He said something, low and quiet. Jill's face lit up and she laughed…and then she touched him. It wasn't anything. Nothing really. She put her fingers on his forearm. Nothing. Nothing at all.

And everything.

His face said it was everything. He was grinning in a way that Mira didn't think she'd ever seen. Oh, she thought, oh oh oh. That's what it took. That's where the wind was blowing. Not interested in the ladies? Not even close. Only interested in ONE lady.

She glanced back at Chris where he was talking with Gertie. Maybe the wrong lady. He was sniffing around something dangerous there. It wasn't outright SAID that Jill was Chris Redfield's…not said. But it was understood. You didn't touch Jill. Not without losing your hands.

Leon Kennedy rose and helped Jill up. He held her hand a second too long. Nothing overt but it rang with feeling. She stood closer to him than she needed to. And he WATCHED her. The way he watched her face as she spoke…like he'd never heard anything more interesting.

Oh he didn't know the rules at all. It was fun to see. It would be fun to see boring, steadfast, businesslike Redfield lose his shit. She was waiting for it.

Quint said, "I've got the coordinates, folks. We're golden like a shower."

Jill turned to move toward the deck to prepare to get ready. And he WATCHED her go. Like she was something he was going to eat. Mira thought, what woman on EARTH could resist that look on his face?

He turned his head, caught her looking. She lifted a brow, glanced at Jill, back at him, and over at Chris. She took her thumb and ran it over her throat, signaling death. Leon grinned and shrugged.

He glanced back at Jill and mouthed, "Worth it."

The unicorn conundrum, Mira thought, Boom.  
......

The former city of Terragrigia, 2005  
.....

They emerged into the ground floor of the building. She pulled off her respirator and he did the same. He'd made a joke about the wetsuit. He shouldn't have joked. She had to look at him in one. They suited up quickly, pulling their necessary pieces from their waterproof packs. Jill strapped on her shoulder holster. She was trying not to notice how the orange and black body glove…fit like a glove to him. He literally didn't have an ounce of fat on his body. If he did, the wetsuit would have revealed it. He zipped on a 3mm orange wet jacket over the suit and covered up that chest and belly that was trying to torture her before he strapped on his shoulder holster. It didn't cover up the lower half of him but surely, at her age, she could avoid staring at his package while they fought bad guys.

Surely.

It was cold in the building, an indication of being below sea level.

Jill had put a blue jacket on herself over the matching wet suit she wore. The parameters of getting to the facility had limited their ability to bring too much fire power. So they were limited to pistols and knives. People often wondered why they went into a mission underarmed. Sometimes it was circumstantial.

His hair was perfect under the hood of his respirator. Of course. Why not? Hers was flat and sorta limp. She put it in a ponytail to counteract that.

Leon checked his weapon, popped the clip, and reloaded it. He clicked on the safety and holstered it. It was habitual. Basic gun safety. It still made her feel better about having him with her. He didn't just assume his gear would work unchecked.

They checked their communicators to be sure they were working.

"HQ this is Vermillion. JFK and I have reached the Go Point."

"Roger Vermillion. Ten four. Proceed with caution."

Leon had laughed when Joel had given him his call sign. JFK. What a joke. It had been better than the first suggestions between the geeks in tech supply. Jill had vetoed a series of…rather ridiculous names. Hercules, Iceman, MrUntouchable. The female geeks had wanted anything regarding his ass. There'd been talk of PertPlus, VanillaIce, and a multitude of others regarding his hair as well.

He said, as they moved toward the first door. "Vermillion?"

"The color of blood."

"Ah. What's Chris' call sign?"

"TickTock."

"Do I want to know why?"

"You mess with him, you get your clock cleaned."

"Ah…clever," Leon chuckled, "What's with Forkball?"

"O'Brien? Long story. But it involves a plate of spaghetti, a lot of Jim Beam, and a very angry waiter."

Leon chuckled again, amused. "Jackass?"

"He laughs like a donkey."

"Grinder?"

"He's an amateur skateboarder."

"Nosejob?"

"Mira? She killed a guy once by hammering his nose into his face."

"…fuck. I'm glad I said no to dinner."

Jill laughed now, thrilled with him. "She's a lot of fun. But she's no bullshit. Gertie that you met? Her name is Drunkfuck."

"….I'm sure that isn't for the reasons I think it is."

"Oh hell no. Some drunk fuck grabbed her ass and tried to get some in a bar once. She broke his wrist, Chris gave her a raise."

"You guys are all friends?"

"Yeah actually," Jill studied the room. It was a perfect square. The room they'd come up in was partially submerged. It had once been a lobby. A set of stairs tilted sadly to one side and offered views of glass and offices beyond.

She pulled up her Genesis and scanned the area. It revealed the terrain and told her about structural defects in the floor. It added heat readings for hostiles and calculated the likely hood of attack. 64%. So not safe but not a guaranteed threat.

"Nice gadget."

"Thanks. Quint and Joel put it together. Brilliant little piece of work."

"Clearly. Could have used it versus thought damn reanimators in Spain."

He pulled the one he'd been given and used it, impressed with the functions on it. It gave him the option to view a map of the area as well as offering an analysis of the environment. Surprisingly the mold was pretty low for a building half buried under the ocean.

"They say you're the human version of a Genesis."

Leon shrugged and holstered the little machine at the back of his left hip. "I have my moments. They taught me how to survive. We'll just leave it at that."

Leave it at that. That's how she felt when she was with him. Because all she wanted to do, most of the time, was leave her hands all over him. She took a deep breath. She centered herself. She put aside the image of his skin flushed and his hands on her.

And she remembered she was a professional.

It wasn't easy. In fact, it was downright torture...but at least it kinda kept her eyes off his ass in that wetsuit.


	6. Part 6: Dead City, Desperate Escape

PART SIX: A DEAD CITY - A DESPERATE ESCAPE  
.......

Leon moved toward the listing stairs and he kept his pistol loose in one hand. She watched his ass as he moved and shook herself like a dog out of water. Focus, her brain said, while her body giggled.

Jill's breath came out in a foggy burst as she breathed. The Genesis told them it was barely sixty degrees in the building. But at least the insulation kept it that warm. It meant the water surrounded was hypothermia cold. Without suits, they'd be dead in minutes in that water.

He was halfway up the stairs before she caught up. She grabbed his arm and halted him. "First things first, I'm in charge. Which means you listen to me."

He blinked at her and he looked adorable in that wetsuit with that communicator in his ear and the curly little tail of it poked into his jacket. But he was still the second banana here. She was the boss.

"I know you're a one man show but you're support on this mission. Which means you sit in support..of me."

Jill watched him struggle with the concept of that. She smiled a little, "Don't worry. It's not hard to work together. Just takes patience. Come on, hotshot, let's see what we find."

They pushed open the first door they came to. The room beyond had started life as an office. It was cubicles and cubicles and cubicles with pictures of families and inspirational posters in abundance. There were computers and half over turned plants. The building was structural sound but listed to one side, on a perpetual lean. The office leaned with it, spilling some things to the floor with the grade of steep slope.

Jill cleared high and Leon low, moving in like she'd asked him to, keeping at her six. So he knew how to work in a team after all. He just needed reminded.

They cleared the area together, checking for information in cubicles as they moved toward the opposing door. A water cooler remained in working order as they passed it, gurgling and glugging. It was dark from lack of power but Jackass was working on the backup power grid with HQ trying to get it restored as they moved.

They had lights both on their guns and on their communicators that bobbled as they moved, lighting the darkness. Without traditional light, security lights had clicked on and were still functional. The backup generators in Terragrigia had been meant to operate via water power. So they could, potentially, power the emergency systems forever in the fallen city even without the power grid that had been established for the sun.

The security lights were flickering and red, casting an eerie glow over the office as they moved. The walkways were narrow and not efficient for effective close quarters combat. An ambush in the small space would be really bad here. They moved quick but aware, toward the neighboring doors.

Jill and Leon ranged themselves on opposite sides of the doors and nodded to each other, they both grasped a handle and pushed, entering the next room and clearing at the same time. The long narrow hallway was glass on all sides, showing conference rooms and offices. It was empty and red. But her inner alarm bells were ringing.

They stopped at the juncture of the first hallway to the stairs. The Genisys told them that there was life on the second floor. It couldn't tell them what kind of life. But probability scans told them it was most likely humanoid.

Jill touched her communicator, "HQ this is Vermillion. JFK and I are preparing to enter the stairwell to the second floor. How's it coming on the power?"

"Vermillion, this is Jackass. Power structure rebuilding is at 60%. Hang in there, I'm working on it."

"Roger. Proceeding into stairwell."

She pushed open the door.

The slice of claws nearly took her face. The only thing that saved her was Leon Kennedy. He pulled her back at the last second and kicked the door in.

It smashed into the hunter waiting for them just beyond. The Genesis couldn't sense it because it wasn't making heat. It was half frozen concealing its heat signature.

Jill stumbled as Leon jerked her backward, bumping against a cubicle. The door had given the hunter a nice blast to the face. Being half frozen, it was slower than it shoulder have been. It reeled and Leon kicked the door into it again and followed it into the stairwell.

Jill heard the first three rounds go off and then silence. The muzzle of his gun had flashed bright beyond the glass. Over the communicator he said, "HQ this is JFK. We've encountered hostiles in the perimeter. The use of force was employed."

"You guys ok?"

"Roger. The threat has been neutralized."

Chris' voice came over the com, "Vermillion?"

"Roger. I'm fine."

She opened the door to the stairwell. "What did I say? I said I'm in charge!"

Leon turned to face her over the fallen, half frozen hunter. He'd dispatched it by blowing half its face off. He looked at her with one eyebrow raised. "I saved your fucking life. Don't be a bitch."

He turned to look up the stairwell. "You could have died by bursting in here."

He met her eyes, "I neutralized it. It was slow and stupid. It's done. Its dead and I'm still alive. Everybody wins."

They glared at each other. Finally, Jill said, "Fall in line, Kennedy. Or go home."

Frustrated, he tensed his jaw. "Fine. After you…boss."

Jill pushed by him. Yes he'd saved her life. True. But he should have waited for her to go through the door. What if it had gotten a swipe of him? He'd be dead now. Dead.

DEAD.

She froze on the stairs.

Fuck.

Fuck a duck. This was why you didn't get involved like that with your partner. Again, she and Chris weren't like this on a mission. They worked together flawlessly. She wasn't worried about him dying. One because she knew what he was like in combat. Two because he never, ever, went through a door alone.

Shit.

She pushed him back through the door into the room they'd left. She double checked that it was clear and put her communicator on radio silence for a moment. She looked up into his face in the dim flashing red light and said, "We have a problem here."

He lifted brow at her, "How so?"

"My feelings for you are complicating the mission. It's bad enough that we haven't worked together before, that's one thing. But you're in here," She signaled her head, "And here." And signaled her chest, "That makes it really hard for me to focus. So I'm twice as edgy."

He touched his ear piece too and surprised the hell out of her. He grabbed her face with one hand and kissed her, fast, sharp, and hard. She had little to no time to do anything but make a sound of want and he let her go.

"I get it. And I agree. This is rough, Jill. Impossible. There's a reason team mates don't shit where they eat. I'm a lone ranger, that's my style. I'm going to try to fall in line here. Because you're in here too." He signaled his head and chest, "And I get how scary that is. So I will follow your lead…as much as I can."

Jill smiled at him a little and shook her head, "You're such a man. You can't just say you'll follow me, without question. You have to qualify it with a "as much as I can". Typical."

"If you knew me at all, you'd know that it's a big improvement for to follow a lady's lead at all. It's not usually my style."

"I heard that about you actually."

"Heard what?"

"That you're a little bit of a sexist when it comes to working with women."

Now he looked offended. "My handler is a woman."

"Ah yes. The infamous Hunnigan. A quick question, hotshot, did you hit on her at some point?"

Leon twisted his lips to the side and seemed to be thinking on that.

"Exactly. You don't respect girls. You like them, you work with them, you even flirt and joke with them. But you don't follow them. I wonder what that says about me that I'm interested in someone who is kinda a misogynist."

"Hang on now. That's a little rough. In my defense, I've been around a series of stupid, useless, and frivolous women recently….present company excluded."

"Well thanks for that at least. But what about Claire Redfield?"

"Claire as well. She's a survivor."

"And so the picture starts to come a little clearer. That's why you don't touch girls," She studied him a little, "You're only drawn to strong women. You don't give a rats ass about little simpering girly girls who are useless and pretty. Strong women flip your switch."

He shrugged a little and moved away from her. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all. Actually, that makes me kinda like you more."

Leon chuckled. "Well I aim to please."

"Hell no you don't. But I forgive now that I know you're smarter about girls than some men I've met. The tits aren't enough for you, you want the brains too."

"Oh the tits are enough."

Jill laughed a little and moved passed him to continue the mission, "Liar. I've seen inside of you, Leon Kennedy. I know you're deeper than you let people think. No Iceman at all. You're just looking for someone who equals you. Nothing wrong with that at all."

"Well thanks for the support, boss."

Jill grabbed the door handle and paused, glancing up at him. "I don't want to worry about you. I do pairs missions religiously. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing and follow me. If you don't, you could get us both killed. You want to prove Chris right?"

"Point taken. I'll play nice."

"Thank you." She clicked back on her communicator and stepped back into the stairwell.

They cleared the stairwell as they moved together. At the landing, she nodded and he moved to the other side of the door. They counted off together to three and pushed the door open.

The area was wide open. It was a clearly a meeting room. There were chairs packed against the walls and a table in the center of the room nearly fifteen feet long. Folders and papers scattered around like confetti. Something had come through here like a dark storm.

There were dark stains everywhere. In the semidarkness, it looked like black tar. It was splashed over the walls and the table, the floor and the chairs. It was thick enough to squish in the carpet as they moved. Jill turned her light to the floor.

The white carpet was red with blood.

And the blood was fresh.

Fresh.

She lifted her head to look at Leon. It was the only reason he didn't lose his head.

The hunter dropped down from the ceiling fan and tried to decapitate him. She shot it, loud and fast, as it fell. Almost slow motion, she had all the time in the world to yell at Leon and open fire. He dropped even as she fired, rolling as that massive set of talons missed his head by a quarter inch and took some hair with it.

The hunter was dead when it hit the table and shake the table legs in a burst of blood and noise. It wasn't alone. Nope. They'd figured out the ceiling was the warmest part of the room. They were scattered around the room like owls, perching and waiting. They hung on beams and fixtures and they started screaming their warbling cries.

There had to be at least six of them. Jill shouted to regroup as she moved. Leon was on the other side of that long, long table. One landed on the table and raced across it, shrieking.

He didn't run, nope. Why would he?

He leapt on the table.

"Leon! Run!"

He didn't. He fired into it, moving toward it. A second one dropped down beside him and he kicked it, habit and strength. It fell backward onto the floor, screaming. Jill fired into one that fell a foot in front of her, swiping. It missed as she flipped backward and skidded over the ground.

She grabbed one of the steel chairs from beside her and wielded it like a baseball bat, smashing it into the screaming face. Leon shot it twice where it fell onto the ground. She covered him by firing into the one that was racing toward him across the table.

But she couldn't stop the second one that fell down straight on top of him.

She screamed, leaping onto the table. She was going to be too slow. She watched them grapple and jumped. Time slowed down enough that she had all the time in the world leap on its back.

She two fisted her knife and drove it down into the chest of it. It whirled and whipped around screaming as it tried to toss her loose. Leon drove his knife into its throat from the ground. She heard the rip of fabric by claws and nearly died.

It had gotten him somewhere with those damn claws. She ripped her knife clean and jumped off its back. Leon scissors kicked it off him as he flipped to his feet. Jill dropped and buffalo kicked it with both feet. It went backward and took the glass wall behind it with it as it fell.

The screaming burst of shattering glass filled the room. He grabbed her waist and jerked, saving her from the next plummeting hunter. The claws tore into the table where she'd been moments before. She followed the move by grabbing his arm. He used her like a weapon and she went with it on instinct.

He spun her around and she kicked it, hard, as she went passed. Leon let her go and she flipped off the table into a cartwheel. The hunter stumbled and went down, put out of its misery by two following rounds to the face.

The silence was loud. It was punctuated by their heavy breathing over the communicator.

"Vermillion! This is HQ. Sound off!"

"We're fine. Threat neutralized. But this place is infested."

"Abort. Get the hell out of there."

"No. No. The Genesis said humanoid, Chris. There's someone here."

"You need more back up?"

"Negative. Not yet." She glanced up at Leon on the table. "I think we're gonna be just fine."

"He living up to his name?"

"….more than."

"Good to hear."

Leon leapt down off the table. She moved to him, eyeing him in the red light. "I said run."

"Yeah? Where? Sometimes it's fight or die."

She grabbed his jacket front in both hands and jerked him forward. "You're trying my patience. And worse? You don't even care. I said fall in line, Agent Kennedy. Do that. Or go back and wait at the drop site."

He looked down at where she gripped him, "There was nowhere to run, Jill. It was that simple. Running would have put us back in the stairwell with six hunters. Enclosed, trapped, and dead in minutes. That was the wrong call. I said I'd follow you when it was the right one."

"You arrogant little…" Jill shoved him, hard enough he stumbled, "I've faced off with these things more times than you ever will! I know how they move, how they think, how they respond. They can't fight in enclosed spaces. We would have had the advantage. Here? We're sitting ducks. They are fast and bouncy and loooove being in packs. On the stairs they would have been limited, fatal funnel style. It wasn't the wrong call…" She shoved him again and he lifted his hands to show he was defenseless, "It just wasn't the one you'd have made. YOU nearly got us both killed playing for dominance. I'll say this one more time and not again: FALL IN LINE. Or go back."

He shifted a little, uncomfortable. Finally he said, "Ok. I'm sorry."

Jill shook her head, too angry to speak.

"Jill? I'm sorry. You're right. But I wasn't being dominant. Not really. I was just trying to pr—"

Jill glared at him and he stopped what he'd been about to say. "Oh…you've got to be kidding me. You were trying to what? Protect me? Do I look like a need protecting?! You men…I don't have time for this shit now."

"Ok. Ok. Ok. I'm sorry. Jill…" He moved in front of her and lifted his hands, "I'm sorry. You can kick my ass later. I'm sorry." And he moved a little. She saw the damage to his suit. The idiot. The fool. Trying to protect her and nearly getting his head cut off.

She shook her head and checked him. The jacket was ripped on the left upper arm but he looked unhurt. The wetsuit was intact beneath it.

"I'm going to kick the shit out of you later. You ok?"

"I'm fine. Really." He winked at her.

She shook her head and moved to check the one who'd fallen through the window. It was cut to ribbons and very dead. Safety glass did that. It was like pushing a body through a cheese grater.

She lifted her Genesis and scanned the area. The heat signatures were farther down the main hallway. She gestured and they moved, clearing as they went. Something sticky stopped her, so Jill glanced down to see what it was.

It was hard to tell in the bad lighting, but it looked like mucus. She crouched down to look at it closer. "HQ, I've got ectopic debris."

"Get a sample, Vermillion."

"Roger."

She pulled a vial and scooped up a sample. She put the sample in the port of the Genesis, "Uploading now."

After a moment, the Genesis told her it was a membrane of some kind. It was trying to analyze from what. Disgusting.

They moved to the end of the hallway to the double doors. They flanked them once more and nodded. One, two, three. They pushed the doors in.

The walls of the room were lined with pods? Pods of some kind. The Genesis told them that there were humanoid lifeforms inside the pods. The pods were covered in warty lumps and bumps, oozing goop and stench. It smelled like funk and fart and something worse.

Jill said, "Jesus.."

Leon intoned, quietly, "HQ this is JFK. Something is breeding down here. We've got cocoons on the walls. At least ten of them."

And the lights clicked on. Just like that. They flickered, popped, and brought light to the macabre horror show that surrounded them.

Faces were seen inside the goopy pods. Faces and hands and feet. Jill whispered, "It's people."

The room ran red with blood. The walls, the floor, the ceiling was splashed and saturated with it. The pods were slimy and black and green stuck like boogers to the glass. The people inside looked to be sleeping. It was like something out of Alien mixed with a nightmare.

Jill said, "Can we get them out?"

Leon moved a little closer to one. "Are they even alive?"

"Genesis is getting vital signs. So they're not dead."

"Holy fuck."

"I know."

Leon touched his ear piece, "HQ we've got living people in these pods. Impossible to know if they are functioning or not. Likely hood is that they've been implanted by something. They appear to be in stasis and kept that way."

Chris came back to them, "Upload footage and analysis data."

"Roger," Jill raised her Genesis to scan them. Leon did the other side of the room with his. They were trying to decide if they should cut one open and it bubbled. It bubbled and burped and smelled like rotten eggs.

Jill covered her nose and cringed.

And the pod split open.

The person inside spilled out onto the floor. Leon kept his gun on it and Jill circled away, scanning it. The body lay on the floor, still but breathing.

"Vermillion? Report."

"One opened. It's just a person. It's a girl. And she's just lying here."

Finally the little girl lifted her head. She blinked and blinked again. She was fully dressed and covered in goop. She was maybe ten years old.

Jill moved toward her. "Are you alright?"

Leon grabbed her arm and the little girl growled. She growled and bared her teeth at them. And then she threw up a stream of puke and chunks. It hit the ground between them and sizzled, burning. And the chunks had teeth.

The tiny blobs with teeth were squealing and flopping around. They got too close and Leon stomped one into the floor. It splattered and stank, horribly.

The little girl rose, snarling. Jill backed away, horrified. She said, "Leon…"

And he shot her. He shot the little girl right between the eyes. She was tossed backward from the close distance of it. She slid in the blood and filth and was still.

Jill made a sound of horror and whispered, "HQ…the people are infected with something. This is really bad."

"Sending back up, Vermillion. Find safety and stand down."

The rest of the pods began to burst open. Bodies began to drop and flop and stink around them. Leon grabbed her arm and pulled her. "Move. Now!"

They rushed toward the door they'd come through and the little girl was blocking it, bleeding, but alert. She hissed at them and spit that awful burning acid from her mouth. They backed up, squishing little blobs with teeth.

Leon shot her again, twice. She spun around and fell and rose again, screaming now.

Fucked took on a whole new meaning.

They turned and ran for the opposing doors but they were blocked there too.

Leon unhooked a flash bang from his holster. He turned and shot the glass wall beside them. It collapsed in a spill of sound. He tossed the grenade.

They jumped through the jagged opening, the safety glass tearing at Jill's jacket as they did. The bang was loud and the light bright and immediate. The things in the room were screaming in rage.

They ran, fast and blind. They hit the far stairwell and spilled into it, clearing and running. With no choice to go but up, they ran up, pounding on the metal staircase as the sound of pursuit chased them. The stairwell was blocked at the fourth floor by fallen debris forcing them to kick open the door and head inside.

The fourth floor was the daycare. They burst inside and came face to face with the bodies. The bodies were everywhere. They were split and opened and dead and rotting. Blood was everywhere. It covered toys and shelves. It was splashed across backpacks and the chalkboard. Adorable drawings were horror shows of blood and guts.

Basinets were overturned and the tiny bodies inside were ripped to pieces. Jill was making some sound in her throat. She was frozen there, unable to move. She could see tiny hands and feet, tiny faces forever locked in sleep. Someone was keening high and loud and horrible.

She realized it was her.

Leon was shoving a shelf in front of the door they'd come through.

He finished and grabbed her, shaking her, "Not now! You hear me!? Not now! MOVE!"

Jill nodded, wide eyed with shock. He slapped her, hard. She staggered, breathing too loud.

"MOVE JILL!"

It snapped her back to herself. She nodded, hard, and moved. They ran to the far side of the daycare, leaping over dead babies…leaping over dead children. There was a little girl in a blue dress gutted and hung from the fan above them by her own intestines. Jill felt herself trying to retreat, to curl inside her body and cry. She pushed hard The aides had tried to protect the children. They were gutted and missing limbs. The hunters had destroyed them.

She knew Morgan Lansdale would rot in hell for what he'd done here.

They burst free of the daycare and came face to face with a hunter. They tried to separate and divide its attention. It shrieked, angrily, and chose its target. It turned to chase Jill and Leon shot, catching it in the shoulder. It changed course, leapt, bounced off the ceiling and landed a foot from him. It smashed its claws into Leon and tossed him. Just like that. It hit him full body and threw him up and out without so much as a delay in movement.

He went up and hit the ceiling and came back down all the way down the hallway from her. He was very still on his face on the floor. Get up, her mind screamed, GET UP! He didn't move.

But the hunter was going in for the kill.

Jill screamed in rage and shot it. She shot it until it was hamburger and twitching muscle. She blew it off of him and sent it spinning across the floor. She felt the quiet of the fight sink into her bones. There was no place for fear and anger here, no, this was about skill and decision. Dead, she couldn't help her partner. She looked down the hallway. The next one shrieked at her. But it wasn't stupid. It knew she was a threat now. It paced, glancing at her and Leon. It wanted to kill him. She could almost taste its need for blood.

She had her own.

She reloaded, watching it, "Come on you son of a bitch! I've got some more for you!"

It glanced at Leon on the floor.

"Try it! You froggy faced piece of shit. I DARE YOU!"

It leapt for her fallen partner and she plugged it in the back, throwing it forward. It landed on Leon and she screamed, running. She thought she'd die in the handful of seconds before she got to him. She jerked it off him and found him alive, looking at her, and covered in blood.

He'd driven his combat knife into it as it landed. The knife stuck out of that shrieking mouth. Jill jerked it clean for him and offered it back.

"Get up," She said and jerked him to his feet, "You ok?"

"I appear to be ok. Thanks."

"Sure. MOVE!"

They turned down the hallway and ran for the next stairwell. Three hunters burst from the office beside them as they ran. Leon missed the swipe of the claws of the first one by literally running half up the wall beside them. He pushed off it and rolled, firing as he came down. She'd read the reports, she'd heard the gossip. She'd never actually SEEN him move like that. He moved one wall, used his own momentum to run up the wall like some kind of acrobat, and propelled himself down again. The amount of skill in that was awesome.

Jill scattered the other two with a roundhouse kick. She put two rounds into the first and turned for the second. It leapt on her, taking to the glass wall with it. She turned her gun against the glass as it shrieked and tried to eat her face and fired. The glass shattered and she dropped, smelling its stagnant breath. She put her feet in its belly and pushed from her back where she landed, tossing it through the breaking glass.

She was showered in shards and blood. She rolled even as she felt the sting of it on her face.

There was no rest for the weary; the terror rose around her like fog because the screaming, acid spitting humans were coming.


	7. Cold Hands - Warm Heart

PART SEVEN: COLD HANDS - WARM HEART

The former city of Terragrigia, 2005  
.....

Jill staggered to her feet, half stumbling toward Leon. Moving swiftly, he grabbed her arm and all but threw her into a run-in front of him. They hit the stairwell and didn't even clear it; they just ran.

"HQ! The place is infested! It's over run! We're in trouble here and need an evac!"

"Get to the roof! I'm sending in Kirk with the chopper."

They were still seven stories from the roof. She wasn't sure they'd make it. She said, "The stairwells are blocked in places and infested with hunters. We need another route!"

"Roger! Stand by."

They ran up the stairs as they waited. It was hopeless. Surely. They were going to die here. The stairwell was three deep with hunters at the sixth floor. They weren't going any higher in that direction. They pushed through the doorway and out into cafeteria.

Food and trash was everywhere. It was a disaster of overturned tables and blood. Body parts were tossed around like left overs. A few bodies were dangling like ugly dolls from the ceiling fans. One was impaled by a lunch tray through the chest and pinned against the wall. They burst into the cooking area and found a man half stuffed in the oven…and pods all over the walls.

"Oh my god."

"No time. Move Jill. Just keep moving."

The pods started to pop and burp.

The door to the stairwell burst open and a hoarde of hunters came barreling through, shrieking and leaping. They were going to die here. They were going to die here.

"Oh god. Oh god." She was saying it over and over as they ran. They ran to the far door and shoved. It was locked.

Locked.

Locked.

Leon kicked it. It clanged. He kicked it again. Clang. Again. Clang. "FUCKING OPEN!"

A hunter dropped down from the ceiling, shrieking. Jill lifted her gun and aimed at it. They were so dead. This was how they died, split from groin to sternum and covered in blobs with teeth and burnt alive by acid. Jesus.

Leon grabbed her arm. "Wait. Flank him."

"What?"

"Flank him. And follow my lead."

Leon whistled, "Hey! Quasimodo! Come on."

Jill ran around behind it.

"Shoot it Jill! Shoot it in the ass!"

"What!?"

"DO IT!"

She did it. She shot it in the ass. The hunter wailed and rushed Leon. He waited, waited, waited and rolled. It slashed an inch from where he'd been…and hit the door. The door burst open, thrown off its hinges in a scream of metal. The hunter was lodged in the door, shrieking.

Leon left it alive and kicked the door the rest of the way open. "COME ON!"

She ran toward him and they raced out the door.

"Vermillion, this is Jackass, there's a fire escape route on the seventh floor. It's on the west side passed the gymnasium. It should give you a straight shot to the roof."

"Roger!"

They ran up the stairs and burst through the seventh floor doors. The gym was wide open and had a pool to one side and a basketball court on the other. They raced toward the far side. The path was clear, they were going to make it!

Something burst out of the pool. It was huge, eel like, and had a thousand teeth. It roared, shaking the room around them. It barfed a thousand tiny blobby babies with teeth all over the floor. They rained down on Jill and Leon and started biting.

It felt like being eaten alive by killer bugs. She was screaming and swatting them off. They stuck on her suit, in her hair, on her face. She jerked off the most offensive ones and kept on running. The giant eel was flopping toward them, shaking the ground like an earthquake.

She slipped in all the water from the ruptured pool and went down, slipping like she was on a water slide. She rolled into Leon and took him with her. He fell on top of her and held on. She felt him cradle her against him even as she heard him firing over her head. He was something man. If he could hit anything on the mad rolling slide they were on, she owed him an apology for being such a bitch before.

They hit the door to the fire escape and burst through.

For a long moment, they were airborne. She saw the water below them and knew they were going to die in the frigid depths of it. And Leon grabbed the fire escape with one arm.

They flopped out and hit hard against the metal, swinging back. He took the brunt of it. She didn't linger, she grabbed the metal and climbed up. She pulled him up with her.

"Jesus Christ, thank you."

He nodded and helped her up. The water was still rushing all around them. But it had gotten the nasty blobby babies off them. Inside the building, the giant eel roared. The metal stairwell shivered.

"It's going to tear this place down around us."

Jill nodded. "Yeah it is. Let's go!"

They climbed up the fire escape, as fast they could move. Beneath them, people began to emerge. They were screaming and growling. They started up the ladder after them.

One more flight up the escape, the eel had had enough. It burst through the door and it tore apart the side of the building while it did. It burst out in rush of brick and stone, showering the world with rage and rock. The building shook so hard they nearly fell off the ladder.

The eel knocked some of the screaming, acid spitting people into the water. They fell, shrieking and squealing. Jill reached the roof first, reaching down for him.

And one of the women grabbed his foot. They had massive strength, clearly, as they tore him off the ladder. He slid down it and fell. Jill screamed. He landed on his back on the next level with a clang of metal.

"Leon!"

"GO! I'll follow you!"

"Don't be stupid!" Jill aimed and shot the first one that tried to spit on him. It stumbled, grappled, and fell screaming toward the dark water below. "Come on! I'll cover you!"

He rose to his knees and one leapt on him. He rose anyway and grabbed it around the hips, tossing it up and out as he rose. It went over the side to join its fallen friend. She shot another one that grabbed for him and the bullet spun it sideways but didn't knock it down. The eel was roaring and chewing its way up the building toward them, stuck on the wall like it was made of glue.

Leon leapt and grabbed the bottom of the platform above him, he swung himself out and back again. He hooked his leg around one of the women. He used the momentum to toss her off the platform. The next swing back he kicked the next one in the face.

Jill realized he'd lost his gun somewhere. Probably when he'd used his hand to catch them on the stairwell. He was weaponless.

"No!"

"DON'T!" He landed on the platform, surrounded by them, "Don't you dare!"

But, of course, she didn't listen. She dropped from the upper level…and landed in mass on three of them in front of him. They tumbled down, shrieking, under her weight. She kicked the first one off the platform and elbowed one beside her in the face.

Her knife took the third one right in her screaming mouth as she prepared to spit acid and vomit all over them. Jill dragged her by the hair as gnashed her teeth on the knife in her mouth and chucked her off the platform, jerking her knife clean as she kicked her clear.

"Jill!"

She turned, beckoned by the command, and he grabbed her hands. She held on and he spun her out again like he'd done before. She went, a human battering ram, and knocked them around as he spun her. He tossed her free and she went up, out, and grabbed the platform one handed.

On her return swing, she grabbed his hand. Her own momentum and his carried them out away from the platform and saved them both from twin plumes of acid and death. They streamed passed, narrowly missing his chest and face.

They were dead if they swung back. There were twenty of them on the platform now. There was no other choice. One of them spit that acid and it hit him. It hit him. She heard it hit. Heard it sizzle. He gasped and slipped with his hold on her.

They'd kill him first. She'd rather die in the water.

Jill threw her legs up, pushed against the platform as they swung back to kick them off, and let go.

They tumbled. The wind rushed, fast and hard by their faces, she felt him hit the water first and go under. She was a second behind him. It closed around her like a freezing fist. She couldn't even yell as it stole the breath. The wet suit helped, yes, but not enough. The cold was like a living, breathing thing.

She sunk ten feet down and came up, scanning the water for him.

The freaks weren't that stupid, they didn't jump in after them. The ones in the water couldn't swim, they were somewhere at the bottom, alive possibly but not a threat. Not yet. Not yet.

But the eel?

The eel came in after them. It pushed off the building, a big fat flopping, slimey, nasty thing. It barreled toward them in the water.

"Oh god…oh god…"

She swam away, hard and fast. Not fast enough.

It hit the water and created a tidal wave. The wave caught her in the back and picked her up, throwing her through the water. She rolled with it, let it carry her further out. She was in the dark water now. She didn't know where Leon was.

And the eel was there.

She came up sputtering. It roared, spewing fountains of water around them. She fumbled the pulse grenade from her pack. It was all she had.

The eel rose above her roaring. It was the harbinger of darkness. It was the face of death. It had a thousand teeth.

She threw the grenade in its mouth.

The tail of it whipped and smashed into her. She was lifted out of the water and thrown through the air like a dart. She spun, spun, flipped, and went down again on her back. The water closed around her cold, freezing, but oddly peaceful.

And beneath the water, she heard the explosion. It echoed through the water, muffled by it, the reverberation shivered through like waves. She heard the plopping of bits and pieces on the surface above her. And the dark water was darker now with blood and thick, meaty chunks of dead beast.

The blast kicked her back and stole her breath. She rolled from it, hunched around herself against the impact. It forced the water against her like a spear.

And something grabbed her.

She turned, fighting, freezing, and fighting like an angry hornet. The water stilled her hand enough that the punch she threw had no power. It hardly did anything as the waves absorbed it. And she was grabbed again and pulled, hard, to the surface.

Jill delivered a reverse headbutt the moment they broke the surface. Her attacker gasped, grunted, and let her go. "Hey!"

She spun in the water, "Leon!"

Muffled, the voice said, "Yeah. I think you broke my fucking nose."

"Oh my god!" She swam toward the shape of him. He was bleeding, true, from his nose. And it looked sorta bad and dark in the eerie night sky. "I'm sorry!"

"Ugh. I'll live. We have to get out of this water though or we'll freeze to death here."

"Are you ok? They got you with that shit back there."

"Yeah. The jacket is toast but it didn't get me."

"Oh thank god."

"Nice thinking back there. I thought we were dead."

"I know!"

They swam toward the nearest shore they could see. They made it, but barely, without the added layer he was at a disadvantage. She turned back when she reached the shore and he was still in the water.

"Hey!" She ran back into the water to grab him. His lips were too dark in the moonlight. She was freezing and he was worse. She looped his arm around her. "It's ok. It's ok. Come on."

She half dragged, half carried him toward the little cave that was tucked up under the rock on the shore. The effort of doing so put some life back in her limbs. She got him inside and laid him down on the floor of the cave. It was warmer in the cave then she would have thought.

She opened her pack to find the heat packs they carried to prevent hypothermia. She broke them and hurried over to him. She put them in his hands and he was with it, barely, but enough to know to hold them at least. She touched her communicator and it was gone. She'd lost it somewhere in the water.

She opened her pack and pulled free the insulated emergency sleeping bag inside. She opened his pack and retrieved the same items. She slapped his face a little and he turned his head, blinking at her.

"Hi. Stay with me. Please. We need to get you out of the suit. Help."

He shifted and she unzipped him from the back. Her hands freed him first from his holster and packs and tossed the gear away. She jerked off the wet shoes he wore fast and furious. She peeled the suit off him and rolled him onto the first sleeping bag. She covered him with the other one and put the heat packs on him beneath it.

She quickly stripped down to her bare skin and climbed in with him. She pressed against him, curling him on top of her with the heat packs between them. The shivering was bad. His was worse. She wrapped her legs and arms around him like an octopus and rubbed up and down his arms.

Helping him was helping her too. She was feeling her fingertips again.

"Stay with me. LEON!" She yelled in his ear.

He flinched and blinked, lazily, at her.

"Stay awake. Ok? Look at me."

She smacked his face, hard. It worked enough to have him blinking and moving against her. She rubbed up and down his back now, briskly. "Wake up. Please."

It was the fear that broke into his foggy brain. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. Why was she yelling at him?

And finally he saw her face.

Oh…oh. He could feel his toes. He shifted his face to see if he could feel it. Yep. It was still there. Although his nose really hurt. He shifted his body…yeah he could feel that too.

He could feel heat on his chest and stomach and groin. She'd put a heat pack between their groins. She'd put a heat pack between their very, very naked bodies. He blinked down at her. He didn't know exactly how they'd gotten here. They were swimming and now they were here naked.

She'd clearly gotten him here and saved his ass. She was something. She was something indeed. And she was naked. NAKED. And pressed against him.

He wondered how cruel the universe could be to put Jill Valentine naked in his arms twice and expect him to do nothing about it. TWICE. The universe was a bastard.

She was speaking to him. He tried to listen. But she was naked.

"Leon, did you hear me?"

"No." His lips were still pretty numb. "I'm sorry. I can't focus."

"It's ok. You're talking so that's a good sign. I can't raise HQ on my communicator. I lost it somewhere in the water."

He felt her feeling around his ear now. He said, "I think it's in there."

She found it and touched it. It was quiet. "Might be dead. I got nothing."

"Shit."

"Here let me get off you at least."

"No. Stay still. Don't move until the feeling is back in all your parts ok? From toes to nose I suppose."

"Hypothermia by Dr. Seuss."

She laughed and shivered. He glanced down at her again. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Just..cold."

He shifted his body and found out the worst part about the situation. She was wrapped around him. Her legs, her arms, her hands. They were all over him. Rubbing and touching. It was brisk and medical. Sure. Sure it was.

"Here…let me get my weight off you at least a little bit." He shifted to a push up position on top of her. Which..did not even help a little. Now he could feel her. He could feel the heat of her against him. She lowered her legs to his flanks and rubbed at his calves with her feet. She had to be really scared and cold to not realize what she was doing here.

He rolled to his side and brought her against him so he could rub on her too. It was the right thing to do. He tried thinking about baseball. And big blobby creatures with teeth.

Leon rubbed over her back. Big blobs with eyes and teeth. He rubbed her arms. Bottom of the third, bases loaded. His hands found her cold ass and started rubbing. Humans spitting vomit and acid. He rubbed the backs of her thighs. Home run driven out the third base li—

She'd gone still against him. He started to shift away and she made a sound. He realized she was crying. Well that worked better than baseball and blobby teeth. She was crying on his shoulder now.

He leaned back to look down at her. "Hey…hey hey hey."

"I'm sorry," She wept, brokenly, "I'm sorry. The babies…the babies…and the blood…and you were lost…and you were cold…oh god…"

"Shhh. Shhh. It's ok. Hey." He kissed her closed eyes and stroked her wet ponytail. "Shh. It's ok now. It's alright."

"I'm sorry," She sobbed again, "Why would someone do that? How could someone do that to babies? To children? Look what they did! Oh my god."

And he kissed her.

It was all he could think of.

She went very still under him. Her eyes opened and looked at him. His were closed, tightly. He looked a little worried. He kissed her like a boy. Like a boy trying to calm her.

He was trying to turn her mind away from what they'd seen. He was offering her an out. She took it and took it hard. She kissed him back, eyes open, watching him. Almost chaste, smooth and soft. She licked the line of his mouth and he made some sound.

He was so sweet. He was so gentle. He didn't press or drive or steal. He waited.

Touched, moved, and afraid of what it meant; Jill leaned up toward him. She showed him what she wanted with her mouth. She opened her lips and he echoed her. The man who liked to be in command let her command him. The ability to relinquish control turned her on in ways that had no name. What was his mystery, she wondered, that made him almost virginal when they touched?

Virginal.

Her mind flashed on the shower. It flashed on waking up alone. It flashed to now and his slow, unsure touches. Oh my god, she thought. Maybe he was nervous for all the right reasons.

Maybe Leon Kennedy was a virgin.

It sounded stupid when she heard the whole sentence in her head. Surely not. That would be ridiculous. What in the fuck was wrong with all the women in the world if they'd never jumped on him and rode him like a prize pony? What possible armor could he wear to turn them away?

What was wrong with Claire Redfield that she hadn't gotten there first? She'd always kind of assumed that Claire had leapt on his bones and brought him into manhood with her. Maybe not.

He wasn't playing games. He didn't know what the hell he was doing. And he was doing it to keep her from spiraling into the darkness. She slid her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like she'd known he would, sex and hunger and temptation. Leon answered it, tentatively. She was sort of gentle because his poor nose was a little swollen. But she wanted to taste him. Had to.

God. Could there be any moment more wonderous then this? He'd taken the dark and the horror and filled it with something sweet and soft and amazing.

She framed his face with her hands and poured herself into him. He echoed it, making a sound of desperate need. She kissed him like she'd find the answers in the universe in his mouth. The cold of his lips excited her, the inside of his mouth was searing hot by comparison.

When he moved a little closer to her, seeking more, she gave it to him. She made love to his mouth with her tongue. The kisses grew fervent, they grew hungry. The little heat packs slid from between them and lay around their bodies like little firey coals, exciting and offering encouragement.

He made a little sound of pain as their noses brushed too hard together. She leaned back, breathing hard, "Sorry."

"No." He laughed a little, desperately, "No sorry."

They kissed again, smooth and wet and needy. She didn't even care that his nose bled a little on her. She didn't give a shit about that.

She leaned back enough to whisper, "What do you want, Leon?"

He opened his eyes, met hers, and said, "You."

It was the right answer. The only one she'd wanted to hear. Always. So, she gave him everything she had.

She taught the Executioner all about kissing her. She sucked his tongue, swirled his mouth, and suctioned their lips together until her mouth was a little bruised from it. He was awkward at first, yes, adorably. But he was a pro by the time she was done with him. Each rolling glide of mouth to mouth was a method of learning for him. She could almost guarantee he was filing away the knowledge of her like a well honed predator.

It made her wet for him. That intelligence? It was almost as good as the face.

He shifted, rolled her beneath him, and she let him. Their mouths broke apart, panting and breathless. Leon held her face and looked down at her. Jesus, he thought, that had worked for them both. He not only could feel his toes, he could feel her toes too, and the press of himself against her belly.

She murmured, hoarsely, "...you're so hard."

Shit. He didn't need it vocalized to know that. But her saying it? It made his balls hurt with want for her. He grumbled, "I live that way around you."

Jill laughed, flushed with flattery and desire, "...yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah." He rubbed on her belly and her nipples hardened against his chest. Hell, he thought, this was like trying to stick his dick in fire - eventually, it was going to burn off.

Her hand skimmed his belly to stroke two fingers over the head of him like a tongue. He slicked those fingers with pre-cum and his hips thrust at her hand without meaning to. She shifted her other hand to cup his heavy sack, rolling the delicate weight of him. Their mouths met, wetly, and his breathing turned harsh and desperate.

He sent a hand to join the party and cupped her, his middle finger dipping passed her slick folds to seek the moist valley between. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her on the floor of this dirty cave. Tawdry, desperate, and true - he fingered her with two digits and thumbed her clit while she sucked his tongue. They were both burning alive with it.

All this playing, it was killing them both. Why were they doing it? There'd been a good reason when it started. What was it? He was so desperate for her, he couldn't even remember.

He was pretty sure she'd let him fuck her. He stopped fingering her to grab at her wrist, almost desperately, letting her know he was going to cum all over her belly if she didn't stop.

As if reading his mind, she nodded. She nodded and shifted her body, offering. He groaned a little and kissed her again. He pressed their foreheads together. His throbbing nose was trying to tell him to think about what was about to happen.

Jill stopped pulling on his dick and gripped his ass instead.

Jill shifted her hips and his erection settled between her thighs, brushing against her. She wasn't thinking of anything now but him. She said, softly, "Please."

He wanted her. He wanted nothing but to be inside of her and love her. He couldn't breathe sometimes thinking about how much he wanted her. And she was rubbing on him, against him, she grabbed at his ass and wanted him too. It was right. It was the right thing.

He nodded, nodded, and shifted his hand between them to angle himself into her. She lifted her hips and settled her feet on his calves again. He slid against her, looking for the right angle on the hard ground.

Leon, shaking, warned hoarsely, "I...I don't have anything. Jill? I don't have anything with me. I just-"

Jill shook her head, almost manically, "I'm clean. I swear to god. I'm clean."

"No...no just...not that..." He forgot what he was going to say anyway. She gripped his wrist, helping him run himself over her. Jesus. He should protect her from pregnancy. That's what he meant here.

But he didn't care. She didn't care. She rolled his arm to run the length of his dick all over her swollen lips.

And his communicator beeped in his ear.

Her hand snaked down to rub him along the soaked slit of her body. He twitched his head like a fly was in his ear. Her legs parted wider, cradling him as he adjusted his hips. The fat head of him eased into her; snug and warm, she stretched to take him.

Someone was shaking. Her?

Nope. Him. And it had nothing to do with hypothermia.

Her hands grappled desperately at his hips and she made a high pitched sound of excitement.

"-is HQ come in! Respond!"

He blinked, blinked again. She rolled her hips, trying to get him to slide completely inside of her. Leon let go of himself and bracketed his hands beside her head. He held himself that small little bit inside of her and made her moan. One: if she moved, he was going to cum in her. Just like that. She felt that good. Two: he was on duty. The story of his life.

He could not fuck Jill Valentine on duty.

But he didn't pull out that tiny inch of victory he'd claimed. He held himself inside of her and yearned.

Jill gasped, whining a little, "Leon?! What? Is it me?"

He shook his head and spoke, softly, with his mouth beside her ear, "HQ this is JFK. We're alive. Two hundred meters east of the extraction point."

She froze beneath him. He turned his head, she turned hers, and they kissed wet and deep. And still? He didn't pull out of her. His arms were shaking with holding him up. His legs trembled to finish and shove the rest of his dick into her.

He should get a medal for holding back. Really.

"—ETA fifteen minutes."

"Roger."

He lifted his head to look down at her.

She held his face. She whispered, "They've located us."

"...yeah...I'm sorry."

A funny thing to say. Sorry. He was sorry they were being rescued. He was. He wanted more time with her.

There was so much he wanted to say. So much she wanted to say. She said, "I don't want them to find us."

"...me either...damnit, Jill..." Her name was a moan. A needy one. He kissed her again, kissed her and rubbed against her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. He could finish. He could finish now. He could just…he eased a little more into her.

Her body? It just sucked him right in. Wet, tight, ready - her body was all about him. Her mouth was too. It arched to kiss him. She made small sounds and tried to move her hips up to swallow him down.

She thought he might be made of steel or something. What kind of man could stop like this!?

He looked down at her. No. No. Not like that. Nope. He wanted to relish it this time. This first time. This first time with her. He wanted to relish it. She gasped, softly, "Hurry."

But he didn't want to hurry. His voice shivered and he whispered, spitting hair out of his eyes, "Jill...jesus...we should stop."

Beneath him, Jill thought, was he fucking kidding? There was no more stopping.


	8. ONE NIGHT - ONE MOMENT - ONE BIG MESS

PART EIGHT: ONE NIGHT - ONE MOMENT - ONE BIG MESS

He wanted to savor her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted romance and l-

She hooked her feet over his calves. She arched and jerked at his hips. He slid completely inside of her. It wasn't gentle. It buried him in her to the hilt and had them both groaning. It was audible. It made a sound like sucking a lollipop.

Jill gasped his name and begged, "Hurry! Hurry!" She spread her legs beneath the blanket and planted her feet, offering herself. "Now. Please."

It was the please that did it.

He probably could have stopped it. But it didn't matter anymore. He did what any man would do buried up to his balls in a woman that was mewling beneath him - he stopped wanting to please her, and pleased himself.

He pulled out to the tip and her body didn't want to let him go. She grabbed his face and whimpered. He shoved back into her like he'd break her pelvis. He wanted to see how deep he could get. She bucked and rose up to meet him. He gave up trying to be a good guy.

And he fucked her. Because it's what she wanted, because it's what he wanted. He fumble fucked Jill Valentine because she begged. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't story book. It was simply a fact.

It was almost savage. He bracketed his arms beside her head and plowed her belly so hard it slapped. Her nails dug into his ass. The rocks dug into her back.

It didn't last long. It couldn't. He barely lasted a handful of seconds. She took his four feverish pumps between her thighs and he pulled out, grunting, "...shit...shit shit shit..." as he spilled sticky and wet all over her hip.

Jill moaned. Leon put his face against her neck and found the will to breathe again. And there it was. The first time he fucked her, it lasted four pumps in a dirty cave with his nose bleeding all over her.

She'd never speak to him again. She'd robbed him of his dignity somehow. He let their hearts slam together in silence before he lamented, softly, "...women."

Leon rose off of her and Jill moaned, distressed.

Jill queried, quietly, "You ok?"

He shook his head, turning to wipe his release from her hip. "...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" He shook his head, "It's me. Not you."

Oh. Her hand touched over her slamming heart. He was embarrassed. It made her feel good somehow to know he was so into her that a fast bang on the ground made him angry.

Didn't he get it? The heat of it, the need of it, the speed of it...it made her feel incredible. It was perfect, like he was.

They could hear the chopper coming. They dressed, fast and efficiently. Jill filled the awkward silence by saying, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you do it."

She turned and found him behind her. "You didn't make me do anything, Jill. I can't breathe without wanting you."

Oh, it was the right thing to say. Her heart swelled in her chest.

He caught her and lifted her, feet dangling, against his front. He kissed her, stealing her breath.

"Oh, Leon, your poor nose."

"Fuck my nose. I don't care." He kissed her again, hands in her hair, angling her head to take his tongue. She grappled at him, trying to get closer. He vowed into her mouth, desperately, "You're incredible, Jill. Perfect. Too good for me. I wish I had a thousand years to show you."

Oh, her heart. Her heart for him. It yearned.

The chopper was so close now. She leaned back and whispered, "Swear to me you'll come to my room."

"A thousand horses from hell couldn't stop me."

And the chopper settled on the beach outside their little cave.

They made it back to HQ without saying a word to each other. She was so full of him she thought she'd die. He couldn't think of anything but her.

They'd waited long enough for it.

They hopped off the chopper. He caught her to help her down. She slid against his body. This is it, she thought, finally.

But his eyes were held on something over her head.

There was another chopper waiting across the tarmac. They wanted him in New York immediately. They didn't even want him to change out of his wetsuit. They were surrounded by people and lots and lots and lots of watching eyes.

He didn't even say goodbye.

How could he?

He glanced back at her as he ran and she wanted to cry again in frustration.

She watched him leap into the chopper. It lifted and she waved. It kept happening like this, she mused. And she seemed to always miss him when he was gone. It wasn't a big deal that he didn't say goodbye.

But it seemed to be a big deal when he was gone.

She rubbed her breastbone...still there, she mused, but he'd almost taken it with him.

But when would she see him again? It was stupid to get so attached. Stupid to crave him. It was stupid...to know she missed him already.  
.....

BSAA HQ, 2005  
......

She had just peeled herself out of the wet suit and finally freed from hours and hours of after mission break downs. Faces and names questions and answers and interrogation.

Her head was swirling.

Leon was gone. To where? She didn't know where. Gone somewhere. Any place but here. Would she see him again?

Who the hell knew?

She felt like her head was going to explode with the exhaustion brewing there.

They had samples. They were alive. Other agents were headed in to clear out the place. Maybe they'd find enough to get some answers. All in all, it wasn't a terrible end to a mission. She'd ended up worse off.

Her back and side was sore. She was cold and scared and tired. She was picturing dead babies behind her eyelids every time she closed her eyes. She didn't know how to get it out of her head.

The knock on her door drew her toward it. In her tank top and panties, she answered it, expecting one of the medics with another round of shots for her.

But it wasn't. It was Chris. She leaned on the doorway, giving him a tired look. "What? I'm sorry. I'm crabby and tired here. Can we talk tomorrow?"

He lifted the little tablet in his hands. It was the video of the nursery recorded from her ear piece. It was awful. She put her hand up and felt the tears spring in her eyes. "Stop it. Stop. Why would I want to see that again?"

He shook his head. His hand tossed the tablet into the chair beside her door. She made a small sound of pain as he took her face in his hands. Brokenly, she whispered, "Chris...their faces...their faces..."

He shook his head, the man without words, and picked her up. She looped her arms and legs around his front to hold on. He carried her to her bed and sat down, keeping her around him like a blanket of skin and need.

She gripped his shirt, putting her face in his neck.

His hands stroked her back and he spoke, just once, gruffly, "Let it go, Jill. I've got you."

She stopped fighting - and just broke down. And like he'd done a thousand times before that, he took her pain into him and tried to keep it.

Jill nuzzled her face up his neck. She shifted, straddling his lap. His hands slid up her back. One curled around the back of her neck. The other cupped her chin.

She opened her mouth to him.

This was their thing. It was what they did. They often times fell into bed to obliterate bad memories. It was entirely how they worked.

When the kiss intensified, Jill let him roll her beneath him on the bed. It groaned with the assault. His hands scooped under her tank top and tugged it free. Hers worked themselves into the back of his pants to grip his ass.

It was good. This was good. It was always good.

Three kisses in, she pictured Leon kissing her on that cave floor. She pictured the wonderful intensity of him inside of her. Sweet somehow, almost innocent, even as it burned with greed that left her breathless.

There was no art to that. There was no skill. He just...went with his feelings for her. Jill felt that yearning for him again in her belly and her breasts.

And it wasn't fair to anyone to let Chris fall back into old habits while she was so full of Leon Kennedy.

Chris rose over her, his hands moving to her panties to slip under them and tug them down her legs. She gripped his wrists, stopping him. The moment shimmered.

He breathed, gruffly, "It's ok. You wanna stop?"

No. Yes. And no again. She wasn't sure what she wanted. But she knew, in this moment, she had the wrong man in her bed. And they all deserved better than that.

She nodded, breathing heavily, "I'm sorry. I'm just -"

"Hey. Hey hey. It's ok. No apologies, ok? It's alright."

He tugged her into him and they together curled up with her face in his chest. She clung, holding onto him. It was the first time she'd ever turned away from sex to cure her pain.

Because it was the first time sex might hurt her and cost her something that mattered. It was the first time in her life she wondered if she was falling for someone.

All she knew? Somewhere in the world, Leon Kennedy had managed to run off with a piece of her heart.

A few days later, her phone rang in the middle of the night. She rolled naked to get it and opened it.

"Valentine."

The shift of light from a passing truck slid over her face. She could hear him breathing. She pressed a hand to her throat.

She said, softly, "Where are you?"

And he answered, "I'm there. I'm with you."

They were both whispering. She knew, she knew, he was lying down. She closed her eyes and she could see him. He was lying in crisp white cotton. He was naked with those sheets twisted around his hips. He had one leg bent and one hand on himself.

She echoed it and sighed with need.

She said, softly, "I wish you were here."

Lying on his back, he could see her. She was naked and those perfect breasts were cool in the night air. He could see the shadows on the slope and valleys on her peaked nipples. The cool air trickled over her belly, slightly dewy with sweat.

He replied, "What would you do if I was there?"

Oh. Oh. She opened her eyes in the darkness. It was one of those calls. She slid her fingers against herself and he heard the hitch in her breathing. He put one hand in his hair and gripped, listening to her.

She whispered, on a catchy breath, "I'd put my mouth on you…"

And she told him. She told him all about what she'd do. How she'd start at his mouth. How she'd open his mouth and spill herself into him. How she'd plumb his mouth with her tongue while he laid there, unable to touch her. She'd taste his chin and the hollow of his throat. She'd thrill them both with the taste of his nipples. Did he know how sensitive those nipples were? They wanted her to lick them. And touch them. And torture them both with it. She'd use her teeth. Did he want her teeth on him?

He made some sound into the phone that said yes. And he told her. He told her how he wanted her. How he ached for her. The man with all the hilarious one liners. He talked sex like he was born for it. He told her about the taste of her. How he wanted to hold her, how he wanted to bury his face against her breasts and taste her. How he wanted to put his mouth on her and drown in her. How he wanted to lick her belly, the inside of her thighs. How he'd roll his head against her body and kill them both. How he'd drag his tongue over her, in her, and watch her go over the edge quivering. How he'd bury himself inside of her while she screamed. And he'd take that scream into his mouth and take her higher.

She made a little mewling cry and echoed his voice on her body. She heard him, heard him shift in the sheets. She knew he was doing the same. It made her gasp and buck against her own questing fingers.

He told her how to touch herself. He told her what he wanted her to do to him while he touched her. She told him to kiss her. Kiss me, she whispered, and he groaned in frustration. She told him to roll the feel of him in his palm and tell her..tell her…was he soft? Was he smooth? Was he hard for her?

He was never anything but hard for her.

"I wish you we're here," she whispered hoarsely, "Can you get here?"

He gasped and his mind put her there. It put her hand on him. It was her. It was her on him. He could feel her mouth, could see her face in the flicker of dying sunlight beyond his window. He could feel her on him, over him. He could do nothing else but want her.

And his voice was so deep it was almost painful, "I'm there. Can't you feel me there?"

It was a beautiful thing to say. It was a beautiful thing to feel. She whispered, "You're always here. I always feel you here."

He grabbed a handful of sheets and longed for her. He was there with her. He was over her. He was in her. He was between her thighs and in her heart. She gasped out his name and came, trembling, jerking. He closed his eyes, pictured himself inside of her, and did the same.

They lay together, worlds apart, panting.

He said, "It's sunset here."

She glanced out the window of her room. The night was fully bloomed there. It was dark and lit by stars and streetlights. "It's dark here…without you."

She heard him shift. He rolled to his side and she did the same. They touched foreheads without being there. Without being able to touch anything.

He said, "Don't hang up. Ok? Not yet."

She made some sound and curled around the phone, pulling a pillow against her. She pictured his face as she held it. She answered, "Not yet, Mr. Kennedy."

They fell asleep with the phone line open between them.  
.....

Sangre de Christo, New Mexico - 2005  
......

The tiny house was so warm. There was no air conditioning in the adobe style house. Why would there be? The walls were basically mud. It was, by turns, scathingly hot by day and brutally cool by night.

That was the desert. It was predictably dry and predictably dual natured.

The end of a long mission, the end of a longer day, found him with a highball of scotch and the cool desert breeze on his damp torso. The shower had rid him of the stench of survival and blood, sure, but it didn't take away the things that lingered like poison behind his eyes. Screaming, fleeing, people falling from infection and rot. The T-Virus outbreak in the mountains had been horrible.

He hadn't seen a saturation that wide spread since Raccoon City. They were still cleaning up the mess.

In the low light from the kitchen, Leon stared at his wet face as he rinsed it in the sink. He looked tired. He looked haggard. He looked haunted.

He took a long pull on the scotch and let the burn of it warm his belly.

Better, not perfect, but better.

The jeans he wore were slung low and unbuttoned on his hips. They were basically a robe on his body post shower. Shirtless, barefoot, he padded into the living room of the little hut he was using as his base of operations.

The long day would continue tomorrow. The clean up involved eradication of the virus, inoculation of the survivors, and decimation of the diseased. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the faces of the fallen. He could hear them screaming as they fell on each other. He'd put his gun to the heads of children turned zombies and blown them away.

He stared at the shiver of moonlight on the floor of his hut and knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight.

He might as well work on the mass amounts of paperwork that lay piled up on the kitchen table.

Slipping on his glasses, he flipped on the low light over the table. The first report was beneath the pictures of the bodies. Piles of bodies. Faces waiting for names. Families waiting for answers.

Jesus.

The depression of it had teeth. He didn't know how he'd ever scrub the horror of it all from behind his eyes.

Sometimes he wondered what his life would look like if he'd just married his high school sweetheart and become a Senator.

Leon moved to pick up the first picture - a little girl about six years old - and the knock on his door saved him the horror of digging through files to find her name to match her face.

He picked up his glass and padded back into the living room. His Magnum sat on the small table by the door, easily accessible if the person knocking was a threat. It was midnight.

It was the middle of nowhere.

And usually zombies didn't knock.

But there was a first time for everything.

Ada Wong stood on his doorstep. She wore red - her signature color. It was loose and flowing. Some dress that left her ten feet of legs tucked into ice pick heeled sandals.

He tilted his head at her, "Ada...I think you're at the wrong door."

She lifted her lips in a smile and offered him the file in her hands, "Am I? Invite me in, Leon. We have an enemy in common this time."

"Do we? Last time I saw you, you stole the sample and left me a jetski to freedom."

"True. But I did leave the jetski. I could have let the island explode with you on it."

He laughed and shrugged, stepping back to let her in. She passed by him, smelling like something smoky and seductive. The gauzy scarf she wore flickered in the breeze.

He left the door open and rolled his highball glass in his hand as he followed her back to the kitchen. She was carefully examining the photos on the table.

Leon shifted between her and the dead, protecting them.

Her brows winged up and amusement chased over her face. "I'm not here to steal intel, Leon."

"No more lies between us, Ada. What do you want?"

She relieved him of his drink and shrugged, "Open the file."

He did, while she shot back the last of his scotch without hissing.

The pictures on top were clearly women - all women- and all in various states of undress. He almost accused her of handing him porn when he realized that the pictures weren't pornographic, although they might have started that way. They were women in various states of mutation. One with a leg turned into a tentacle. One with breasts that had split to become mouths filled with teeth. One with two beating hearts above a carapace in place of her groin. There were antenna forming on her head.

He lifted his eyes to her.

Ada nodded, "Yes. It's Veronica based. The mutation to ant is evident."

He shook his head, scanning the reports beneath it. It was in New Mexico, apparently a splinter faction of Umbrella that had wrangled paramilitary support among an anarchist movement bent on overthrowing the government. The Way - aptly titled with a symbol of a road diverging in a wood and accompanied by Frost's famous line from The Road Not Taken - apparently considered themselves the birth of a new way of life. They offered bioorganic weapons like dogs to the highest bidder.

They offered the american people a chance to turn themselves into a weapon.

He glanced at her again. Ada filled in the blanks, "Yes. It's that bad. They don't mention the side effects. They don't mention there's no turning back once you mutate. People think it's superhero in nature. Become a protector of the people. Become an X-Men or something. They don't know you become the thing in the injection and you never come back. Once the contract is sign, The Way waits for you to change, collects you when you've gone too far, and sells you like a weapon to organizations needing monsters."

Leon set the file down on the table, "Christ. First you pay them to become a monster, then someone pays them to use you."

"Exactly."

"Consumerism at it's most abysmal. Land of the free, baby."

Ada smiled, slyly. "Nothing more American than exploiting the weak for financial gain."

He skimmed a hand through his hair, "Shit. I need another drink."

Ada poured from the bottle on the counter and offered him the glass. "I can't figure out why all the subjects are female."

Leon considered that as he glanced among the pictures on the table. The level of female death stood out as he did. She was right. There was an abundance of female to male ratio here. Why?

Surprised, he glanced up at her. "Is the virus geared toward female DNA?"

"Not based on preliminary studies I've had done. But it's geared toward certain receptors in the brain, emotional ones. Ones usually dominantly active on the nurturing side of the female mind. Someone wants women to turn into monsters. Why?"

He flipped pictures, his brain racing, "To control them? Women are generally less physically strong...what could be the purpose of turning them? Wouldn't a male monster be a better bet, from a war standpoint?"

She was so quiet that he turned his gaze from the table. She looked amused, "You think you're stronger than me?"

He shook his head,"No. But I still think I could arm wrestle you and win, Ada. Common truth is that men are, usually, more physically imposing."

"Hmm," She almost purred, sipping her drink, "And yet women have other weapons."

He shrugged a little, "Without question. But nothing that would be easily put to use if they were turned into a monster."

"Maybe they're not turning them all. Maybe they're turning a handful...and kidnapping the rest."

It clicked. It fit. The level of girls missing in this area alone had skyrocketed. But why? And who? And where? Too many questions. And one big one.

What were they doing with them all when they had them?

He mused, mostly to himself, "What kind of power could they possibly be trying to cultivate using all women?"

Ada stepped up beside him. "Well, that's an easy answer."

She purred, "...this. A woman's body is a weapon, Leon. Sex? A battle. To win...you use any weapon you have."

Her hand slid over his stomach. The hair on the back of his neck stood up but he almost whispered, "What kind of weapon is that?"

Her mouth pressed to his and she answered, cooing against his lips, "...the only one men really care about."

His internal alarm started blaring red and wild, and her hand slid over his hip and down into his pants. A handful of seconds, and a handful of his dick in hers.

She went right into the sort of unbuttoned fly of his jeans and wrapped her long nails around him.

Their mouths latched, roughly. His hips humped into her fingers. He was painfully hard in the time it took for her to fist him. The thing about Ada would always be how easy it was for her to manipulate him.

He knew she was manipulating him. She knew she was manipulating him. And yet he went right into it like a fly into a spider's web.

She stroked him, sucking his tongue even as his hands went up under the dress she was wearing to fill themselves full of her pert little ass. She laughed, hotly, encouraging him even as he spilled her back on the photos on the table and she parted her thighs to let him between them.

Jerking his dick inside the denim that bound him, Ada purred, "See the power, Leon? You'll do anything to fuck me."

Part of him hated her. It shimmered there between them. It was interlaced with the sheer torture of being a man in the hands of a woman that taunted him. He should send her away. He wanted to send her away.

And he wanted to fuck her. She was right about that.

There were reasons she was the bitch in red.

He jerked at her dress to bare her thighs and shoved three fingers into her without moving the tiny black panties she wore. He simply shifted them aside to claim her.

She spread her thighs to let him, almost laughing with perverse glee.

Her breasts were easy to free inside the shimmery dress. He dropped the straps and cupped them, even as she tugged him free of his pants to play with him. She commanded, roughly, "Fuck me. Watch how I take your power, Leon."

The kiss broke and she dropped her red, red mouth and swallowed him down.

His hands tunneled into the black of her hair, fisting.

He pulled his hand free of her as she shifted on the table. The picture at her left hip was a beautiful woman - dark haired, blue eyed, and filthy. She looked like Jill.

Jill.

Jill.

It was her face that fluttered and replaced Ada's. It was her lips sliding down and over him. It was her throat that seized around him and purred playfully.

He wanted Jill.

He missed Jill.

His hands tugged, pulling her amorous mouth off him. Ada, flushed, batted her lashes as she sat back, propping her elbows on the table. Her tits were perfect, pale, and offering over that silky red dress. She was beautiful. She was primed. She was ready.

And he wanted Jill.

Apparently, he wanted Jill enough to give himself blue balls.

He tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up, backing away from her. Surprised, Ada froze, watching him turn away.

He spoke, gruffly, and surprised them both, "You need to go, Ada. Now."

She said nothing for so long that he turned back to look at her. She wasn't playing now. She was watching him slyly, studyingly, almost like he was a pet project that wasn't performing to her standards.

She'd tucked her breasts back into her dress and was standing by the table. Testing, Ada stepped into him. Her hands curled against his neck to bring him down.

He didn't stop her. He let her kiss him, eyes open and watching him. He didn't stop her...but he didn't kiss her back either.

A curious, curious thing. She was aroused at the idea of him resisting her. It made the game that much more pleasurable. She wanted to push him to see how hard he'd fight back.

She wasn't a woman that failed. She was certain she could get him to fuck her. But at what price? He'd regret it and panic and back pedal, she'd lose the ground she'd gained with him.

It was best to leave things as they stood. The other woman in his head was a curiosity, and one she planned to explore. She tilted her head, "Who is all over you?"

He said nothing and she passed him, trailing her hand over his back. "Remember how powerful a weapon a woman can be, Leon. I almost had you."

He watched her get to the door and called back, gritting his teeth in anger, "Almost only works in horseshoes and hand grenades, Ada."

She glanced over her shoulder, winked, and replied, "Doesn't matter. Either way? You're still dead."

And she left him alone in the teeming hut.

He picked up the picture of the woman who looked like Jill and to punish himself for letting Ada nearly get the best of him, he didn't even finish himself off. He left himself with blue balls...and called himself a fool.


End file.
